Kiss Yesterday Goodbye
by deepwater1978
Summary: Don't keep holding on the way you do. We should kiss yesterday goodbye and all the heartaches. No matter how dirty your past is, your future is still spotless. That is how we should look at one another.
1. Chapter 1

Mystic Falls was seriously lacking in skyscrapers.

The town was all rolling green fields, cowboy boots, and barbecue. A few hundred miles away from the bustling streets of Richmond that Elena Gilbert had lived in her whole life. The numerous state parks, the lakes, the mountains—they were all alien to her.

And they were all, thankfully, so much more charming than endless summers in the Hamptons.

Elena tapped her fingers against the steering wheel and glanced at the clock on the dashboard. The Hamptons—the place she should be right now.

Preparing for her wedding in five days.

Yep. Elena Gilbert was that girl. The runaway bride, the jilter, the disappearing act.

Elena fully expected panic to be ensuing at her parents' sprawling house as they woke and realized she was no longer there. Knowing her mother, she would be having some kind of miniature breakdown, ensuring all eyes were on her, while her father paced and angrily shouted into the phone for someone to find her.

He would call all of the police departments in Richmond, demanding they pulled their heads out of their asses and utilized every resource they had at their fingertips. Her mother would continue to hyperventilate and be seen to by a flurry of people, namely the people whose family Elena was supposed to marry into.

And he—Liam Davis, Elena's darling betrothed, her perfect dream—her utter bastard of a fiancé. He would have his mask in place, every traumatized word falling from his lips a lie. His anger would be barely contained by the necessity for his pretence.

Elena shifted in the seat and winced. Her back was stiff from one break in six hours of driving—through the night, no less.

No. she gritted her teeth. The pain wasn't from driving, although it probably hadn't helped. She wouldn't make excuses anymore. In around ten days, when the bruising had gone, she would no longer have anything to hide. She wouldn't have to spin endlessly in front of the mirror to see if her outfit would cover every discoloured blemish on her skin.

Her phone lighted up from its place on the passenger seat. Damn. She could swear she had turned it over.

His name flashed on the screen, and Elena gritted her teeth even harder. The call clicked over to voicemail. She quickly reached over and flipped the phone so it was screen-down. She didn't need the distraction of the calls.

She didn't need the fear that every message Liam left told her that he was coming after her.

She didn't need the fear that Liam knew where she was.

So, Elena kept driving. She would never look back.

She had made the right choice. She knew she did. She wasn't born to be a punching bag. She wouldn't be the wife that cowered in the corner before her husband arrived home from work. She wouldn't be the woman afraid she left a speck of dust on the mantel or undercooked the potatoes just slightly.

Elena refused to be afraid to breathe for fear it would be too loud.

She tightened her hold on the steering wheel and made the turn into the town centre of Mystic Falls. The saddest thing about this was she didn't jab her finger randomly on a map and set her GPS to the destination. She had planned this. She had known for five days she would be here, and that was the only reason she was able to get through the last time Liam was allowed to touch her.

The only thing that made the bruises that covered her lower back and snaked around to her stomach bearable was the fact he would never get to do it again.

The early-morning rush provided a welcome noise to silence the voice inside Elena's mind. It was not Richmond, but it was enough. It was comfort and safety in an unfamiliar place. Comfort and safety she was glad for.

Elena followed the GPS's directions to the Mystic Falls Hotel in the town centre. She must be crazy—truly crazy.

Yesterday she was a Harvard graduate preparing to enter a job at a prestigious Richmond law firm. She summered in the Hamptons, delighting her parents with her abilities to entertain others. She was about to get married to millionaire Liam Davis, heir to Davies Enterprises, in the wedding of the summer.

Now Elena was a Harvard graduate about to join the team of one of America's favourite bands as their personal assistant.

She might not be able to hide from her family or now-ex-fiancé, but she could keep running. Joining The S. on the final leg of their countrywide tour was definitely the best way to do that, even if she did have to have "two hair appointments," "a manicure," "a pedicure," and "two pre-wedding facials to ward off a spot break out" in the last three weeks to apply for, phone interview, and subsequently talked to their current assistant to get this job. It was almost worth the mini-beating for spending so much money on herself.

Elena pulled into the hotel parking lot and killed the engine. Her eyes were burning with exhaustion, and the only thing she wanted to do right now was meet some girl named Caroline and went to her room to sleep for hours.

She picked up her phone and unlocked it. There were over a hundred missed calls from her mother, father, Liam, and his parents, accompanied by a ridiculous slew of text messages and voicemails.

After a moment's hesitation, Elena opened one of the messages from Liam.

Elena where the hell are you? If you have any sense, you will come home. Now.

That would be a negative on the coming home. Her fingers twitched with the urge to respond. She could just imagine it: a snarky, hot-headed response that wouldn't earn her a physical payback. _Call me senseless when you graduate college with higher grades than me, dickhead._

Elena smiled to herself and exited the message before she typed exactly that. She dialled voicemail, purely out of curiosity. She wondered just how different those messages were.

"Elena, baby, where are you?" Elena listened as his recorded pleas filled her ear. "God, I'm going crazy here. I'm so worried about you. Just…call me, please. When you get this, just call me and tell me you are okay. I love you, okay? I love you so much."

She hung up, a sick feeling churning her stomach. She didn't know how Liam could go from abusive to darling in less time than it took her to pee in the morning. Either way, it was scary.

Her phone rang, and yet again his name filled her screen. Elena stared at it until the call switched to voicemail and got out of the car. Crossing the busy street to the side of the hotel, she ran down the tiny road coming off it. A car engine rumbled in front of me, so she darted to the side and run between some trees.

She had spent enough time gazing at the satellite image of this place on Google Maps in a dreamlike haze. Now it was time for her final act of freedom.

Coming out on the other side of the trees, she jogged down to the walkway that reached out. Boats bobbed on the surface of the water, docked and waiting for their owners. Given that the sun was already high in the sky, they probably wouldn't be docked for much longer.

Elena leaned against the railing and looked down at the water beneath her. It looked cold, dangerous, getting gradually deeper as you reached the middle of the river that led into the ocean.

A smile tugged at her lips. She could walk farther up, but she wouldn't. She would just stay here.

Elena brought her arm back and threw.

Hard.

Her phone sailed through the air, her eyes following it until it finally fell, entering the water with a dull splash. As it sank, Elena grinned.

One of her father's first moves would be to track her phone and credit cards. Even her debit card. Elena was not naive or stupid. She stopped at an ATM in Norfolk and withdrew every last dollar from her bank account, then cut up all of her cards. She threw the shattered plastic pieces into the nearest trash can.

Now, with a couple thousand dollars tucked into her suitcase and her phone languishing at the bottom of the river, Elena declared that she won round one of the runaway-bride saga.

She turned and ran back up the dirt road to the hotel. After grabbing her purse and suitcase from her car and locking it, Elena headed inside towards the reception. The white marble floors and elegant decor wasn't new to her. She had stayed here last summer with Liam when his cousin got married nearby, and she wouldn't deny that she shivered when she was told to come here.

Elena approached the reception and waited for the woman in front of her to finish on the phone. It took her a few minutes, but when she was done, she shot Elena a dazzling smile.

"Good morning and welcome to Mystic Falls Hotel. I'm sorry to keep you waiting. How can I help you today, madam?"

"Hi." Elena rested her hand on the counter. "I'm supposed to meet Caroline Forbes at the reception?"

"Is it Elena Gilbert?" she asked, flipping through a notepad.

"Yes, that is right."

"Two seconds, please." She picked up the phone and pressed a number. "Hello…yes, this is reception. Elena Gilbert is here for Caroline…Perfect. Thank you." She set it back down and smiled at Elena again. "She will be down in a moment. Please take a seat."

"Thank you." Elena offered her own smile and wheeled her suitcase over to the seating area.

She sank back into one of the plush black chairs and clasped her hands in her lap. God, what was she doing? She must be insane—driving through the night to go on tour with a rock band? Was she hit over the head with a brick or something?

This was truly crazy. Elena didn't know the first thing about managing a band, much less four guys playing musical instruments, and she sure as hell was not used to living on a bus and out of hotels. And if Liam found out? She was done for. She was so, so done.

She should probably run out of that door right now before Caroline got down here. She should probably run and make up some crazy lie about needing to drive to get something for the wedding and leaving her phone at home.

But Elena couldn't. She made her bed the second she drove away from the Hamptons, and now she had to lie in it. No matter how uncomfortable the mattress.

"Hi! Are you Elena?"

Elena looked up at a blond-haired woman holding a notebook in her arms. From TMZ, Elena recognized the woman as Caroline Forbes – the promotion manager for The S.

"Yeah. Hi." Elena stood awkwardly.

"Hi! I'm Caroline." Caroline grinned. "The guys are practicing, so I can sneak down for a while."

She sat down, and Elena did the same. "Did you get my email?"

"The one with a list of job requirements?" At her nod, Elena went on. "Yes. And it is fine. Really. It can't be that hard."

"It is not the job that is hard. It is the people you work for." Caroline laughed. "But don't worry. I will help you out for the first couple weeks, until you get to know their routine—if Damon doesn't switch stuff up again."

"Oh, it is okay. I will figure it out."

"You are the PA for the boys, meaning you deal with the schedules," Caroline explained. "I'm the promotion manager and I work along with you closely because I need to know about the boys' schedules. Pearl is the agent for the band and she is also the music production manager. She is basically in charge of the band. Get it?"

"Yeah. It shouldn't be that difficult, I guess."

"Please, let me help you." Caroline cupped her cheeks with her hands and leaned forward. "I have been surrounded by pure testosterone for the last two years. I am so ready for some company."

Elena laughed. "Well, I don't imagine company would be a terrible thing to have."

"Great!" Caroline sat up and clapped her hands once. "Let me grab your room key, then we will go up. You look like you need some rest."

Elena smiled apologetically. "I drove through the night. I'm sorry. I probably won't be much help today."

Caroline stopped at the reception desk and turned to her. She studied Elena slowly, her green eyes regarding her with interest. Just when she opened her mouth to say something, the receptionist asked how she could help.

"Key for room 435, please." Caroline took her eyes off Elena only when the key card was placed in her hand. "Thank you. Come on. Let's go."

Elena followed her into the elevator and she pressed the button for the fourth floor. They whizzed up in seconds, leaving Elena with a little vertigo, and exited.

"So, you are from Richmond?" Caroline asked, guiding her down a hallway.

"Yeah. I have lived there my whole life except for college."

"Awesome. I can't wait to go in a few weeks. Will you see your family when we go back?"

Elena swallowed. "Um, I'm not sure. They might be on vacation."

"Oh." Caroline slid the card into the slot for room 435 and the door clicked open. "Your room is more of a mini-apartment. There is a hot plate, a fridge, and there is a laundry room at the end of the hall. We have the whole floor booked out, and I'm right next door to you, so don't hesitate to call me if you need anything." Caroline grinned widely and handed her the card. "I have your number, so I will call you later when we have a dinner reservation and you can meet the guys. I will let you get some sleep."

"Thank you," Elena said softly, watching Caroline walked out of the room. Caroline paused by the door and smiled kindly, then shut it behind her.

Elena took a deep breath and looked around. The suite was spacious. A corner sofa on one side, a small kitchenette on the other, and a door leading to the bedroom. She dumped the suitcase by the door and dropped her purse on the kitchen counter.

 _Fear nothing, right? Yes—fear nothing._ Elena reminded herself.

Except the four men she had yet to meet and the abundance of tasks she knew nothing about. Caroline sent her a list, sure, but what about little things? Did she run for coffee? Water? Sandwiches? Condoms?

Oh, God. Elena had never bought condoms in her life.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. _Okay. I can do this. I can absolutely flip everything I have ever known upside down and live a completely different life. I can do this._ She said to herself. _You have to forget about the past and move on. This is your beginning._

Elena waved her hands absentmindedly at her mental tangent and walked into the bedroom. One look at the queen bed and she was kicking off her shoes and crawling beneath the covers.

A loud knock on her door jolted her from sleep. She rolled out of bed and stumbled through the suite to the door. "Who is it?"

"It is Caroline!"

Elena opened the door, rubbing her eyes. "I'm sorry. I was sleeping."

"Oh—shit. I'm sorry." Caroline covered her mouth with her hand. "I tried to call you but it went straight to voicemail."

Elea paused, her knuckle digging into her eye. "Oh. Yeah. Um. I forgot to tell you earlier. I don't have my phone."

Caroline raised an eyebrow and walked into the suite. "Okay. What happened to it?"

"I…I think I have lost it. On my way here."

"On your way from Richmond to here?"

"I think so."

"Okay. I will get you a new phone." She smiled, and it was so friendly that Elena couldn't help but smiled back. "I just wanted to tell you we are having dinner downstairs tonight. In, like, fifteen minutes, actually."

"Oh, it is okay. If you could give me a few minutes, I can freshen up now."

"Great!" Caroline said happily. "I will wait for you here and we can go down together." She dropped onto the sofa, located the remote, and turned on the TV.

Elena smiled and grabbed hold of her suitcase. "I will just be a minute."

"Take your time. They won't do anything without us if they know what is good for them." She winked over her shoulder.

Elena wheeled the suitcase into the bedroom and dropped it onto its back. She closed the door quietly, then rifled through the case for a summer dress and clean underwear. The bathroom was large and glittering white, the brightness almost blinding as she changed and freshened up. A touch-up of mascara and she was ready.

Ready to go and meet the band that three-quarters of America had their panties all bunched up over. Her new employers.

Elena looked in the mirror. Her dark brown hair fell softly around her face. Her eyes were full of freedom, something that hadn't been there for two years. She swallowed, and her tongue flicked out to wet her lips several times as she left the bathroom. Elena hesitated by the bedroom door—it was still insane. Still completely, utterly, certifiably insane.

"Hey, Elena? Are you ready? Apparently the guys are waiting for us."

"Oh, yes. Sorry. Just…I don't know." Elena shrugged a shoulder and followed Caroline into the elevator.

Caroline glanced at her knowingly. "Scared?"

"Uh, not in the way you would think." Elena smiled reluctantly. Because she was not.

She was not afraid to meet America's hottest crush. She was afraid to be in a room full of several men she had never met in my life, which was ridiculous, because she was not in danger here. She was safe, hidden away, in a world entirely different from her own.

But her body wanted her to look over her shoulder, just in case.

"They are not bad. Well, most of the time. I promise. Come on." Caroline took her hand with a beaming grin and opened the door to the private dining room. Noise fills it—laughter, loud, booming male voices—but they all silenced when Caroline yelled, "Hey! Hey!"

Four sets of eyes landed on them.

"Now you all better be nice or I'm going to kick some butt," Caroline said firmly, tugging Elena beside her. "This is Elena. She is your new PA."

Stefan Salvatore was the first to stand and offer Elena his hand. She shook it, then he tugged her in for a hug.

"It is great to meet you, Elena. If we get too demanding, just tell us where to go."

"Someone is sucking up because he wants to get laid tonight." There was a chuckle from the corner, then movement. Enzo St John approached Elena with a cocky grin, and before he could say a word, Caroline slapped his arm.

"Try it. I dare you."

Her tone stopped him dead, because he held his hands up and shrugged. "I wasn't trying anything, Caroline. I was coming over to be nice." He shot Elena a wink. "Enzo."

"Hi," Elena said quietly.

"Ignore him." Alaric Saltzman stood in front of Elena. "He thinks he is the big man, but he is still stuck in puberty."

"You all are going to get my shoe up your butts in a minute. Stop trying to hit on her. She works for you," Caroline snapped. "Alaric, sit down before I make you."

"Caroline, I'm not doing anything," Alaric protested.

"Start acting like a gentleman. All of you." Caroline swept her eyes over the three men. "Damon? Your manners get lost inside your beer bottle?"

Alaric sniggered and sat back down.

"Be nice!" Enzo called from the corner. "Come on!"

Elena hid laughter behind her hand. Stefan caught her eye and winked at her.

"Well?"

"Fine." A beer bottle hit the table, and her eyes fell in the direction of the sound.

And, oh.

Okay.

Turquoise eyes the colour of the ocean at the height of summer stared back at Elena with a brooding glint. His dark brown almost black hair hung just over his ears, and his lips curved up to one side when his eyes connected with hers. Her gaze dropped to his body. He was very handsome, standing 5'10" in height with a well built, toned physique. He had a light complexion with olive undertones and had a strong bone structure with high cheeks bones and a solid jaw line. Oh man, this man was sexy, seductive and dangerous. But it didn't matter.

Because Damon Salvatore was walking right up to her.


	2. Chapter 2

Long, dark brown hair. Mesmerizingly brown eyes. Pouty lips. A soft jaw. Eyelashes longer than a doll's.

And a really great body.

 _This is my new PA? And I'm expected not to take her to bed. Good job, Caroline. Good damn job,_ Damon thought.

Damon approached her, this Elena, and stopped in front of her. Her eyes climbed up his body until they met his, and she held his gaze steadily. No wavering, no lip quivering, no blushing. If it wasn't for the way her tongue was flicking against her bottom lip, Damon would say she couldn't give a damn she was standing in front of him.

"Elena," He said slowly, trying her name out. It rolled off his tongue perfectly. "Hey."

"Hello," she replied demurely, holding his gaze for a second longer.

 _Demure. Damn. I don't do demure. But then again, I can't do her, so what does it matter?_ Damon reminded himself.

"You think you can keep up with a band's lifestyle?"

"I will give it my best shot."

His lips tugged to the side. "I'm sure you will, darling. Are you used to showing girls out of hotel rooms?"

"Not particularly, although I'm sure it is something I will have to get used to pretty quickly. Am I right, Mr Salvatore?"

 _Mr Salvatore? What the hell?_ Damon frowned. "My name is Damon."

"To those close to you, and forgive me for saying so, but I would rather like to keep my distance." Elena smiled, unruffled, and stepped to the side. "It is really great to meet you all. I'm sorry we are late. It is my fault."

She pulled out the spare chair between Caroline and Stefan, smoothing her dress under her ass, took a seat. She swept her hair around to one side, exposing her neck to Damon's line of view as he walked around the table and sat back down.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Damon cursed silently. What was with the hot PAs? Couldn't they hire some ugly-as-shit girl? Someone he wouldn't want to flip on their back every time they walked into a room? He could already tell Elena was going to be more of a problem than Rose was when they first hired her.

Elena was going test his resolve, pushing at patience he didn't have.

Elena smiled widely at something Stefan said. _Yep. She is going to be a pain in my ass—just because of her existence,_ Damon thought.

"You look like you are ready to get to know her," Enzo muttered and leaned over. "And not in the way the rest of us are."

"Go to hell," Damon replied. Grabbing his beer, he brought the bottle to his lips and swigged. "Next time, I'm hiring the assistant."

Alaric snorted. "Caroline gave you the chance this time. You were busy with, what is her face? Angelica?"

"Who the hell is that?"

"Stacy? Nora? Andie?"

Damon pointed the neck of the bottle in his best friend's direction. "Andie. She sounds familiar."

Enzo choked and knocked his fist into his chest. "Jesus. Why doesn't this prick have a little black book yet?"

"Rumour has it that they don't make them big enough," Elena chimed in.

Damon darted his eyes across the table to Elena's, ignoring the three men's laughter. At least Caroline tried to hide hers.

Elena's lips curved up around her glass of wine. She took a small sip, her eyes dancing with unrestrained amusement, and Damon leaned back in his chair.

"Mr Salvatore, and now this? I don't think I like you very much already."

Her smiles widened, and she set her glass down. "Good. Then I already accomplished the first job on my list."

"You." Damon turned his attention to Caroline. "You are on the top of my dislike list. Right at the top."

Caroline sipped her drink, completely unaffected by Damon's words, and he turned his attention back to Elena. Whatever bravado she had just seconds ago was gone, because instead of looking at him, she was staring at the table.

Damon leaned back in his seat and kept his gaze trained on her. _She calls me out, then refuses to look at me? Hell no. If you are going to sass me, keep it the hell up. Don't back down—and if you are going to, don't start sassing in the first place,_ he thought.

If this was going to be a pattern, Elena was going to last all of a week as their personal bitch.

The waiter came in and took their orders one by one. Still, Damon looked at Elena, waiting for her to look back. She didn't. She kept her gaze firmly on the menu, her voice quiet and hesitant as she ordered. His head tilted to the side.

 _How the hell can she sass me so bad and then turn into a mouse?_ Damon wondered.

"Filet mignon. Medium rare." Damon handed his menu to the waiter over his shoulder. He took it and presumably wrote the order down, because he left the room a minute or so later.

"Where are you from, Elena?" Damon asked.

"Virginia." Her answer was short.

"Where?"

"Richmond."

"Rich man's playground."

"Yes." Elena grabbed her glass, still looking at the table, and ended their conversation.

Damon tapped his fingers against the table top. Damon, he hated it when people didn't look at him when he talked to them. He especially hated it when a girl ignored him so blatantly. He couldn't take her to bed, sure, but it didn't mean he couldn't make her putty in his goddamn hands.

It didn't mean he couldn't sweet-talk her hoity-toity ass into bending to his every whim and desire.

"Eyes down, Damon," Alaric muttered.

"To her tits? No problem." Damon laughed.

"To your beer bottle, asshole," Alaric responded with a laugh of his own. "She is off-limits."

"Never been very good with those limit things." Damon swigged from his beer bottle. "They get in the way."

"No shit," Enzo added in a low voice. "That is the point."

Damon cut his eyes to Enzo, smirking. "You are a genius, Enzo. Unbelievable." Enzo flipped him off in response, and his gaze found Elena. "She is odd, huh?"

"Odd because she isn't on the floor panting with her legs open?"

"That, too. No—she is quiet, don't you think? I just tried being a nice little boss and she told me off."

"That is because you are a jackass," Alaric input. "Watch and learn." He turned his attention from Damon to Elena and tapped her arm.

Slowly, Elena faced him with a hesitant smile. "Yes?"

"Where did you go to college?" Alaric dived right in. "Sorry," he added when Elena blinked harshly. "Just wanted to know more about you. That is all." He followed his words with a charming smile, and she relaxed.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It caught me off guard." Elena straightened in her chair. "I studied at Harvard and am preparing for school."

Stefan choked on his beer. "No way. What the are you doing here sorting our shit out for?"

"Boys!" Caroline rolled her eyes. "Watch your language please!"

Elena smile widened, just a little. "I needed a change of scenery."

 _Dirty little liar,_ Damon thought.

"All the boys in Richmond too clean cut for you, darling?" Damon asked across the table.

"Actually," she responded calmly, folding her napkin in front of her, "you could learn a thing or two from them, Mr Salvatore. Like manners."

"I would love to, but men don't take lessons from boys."

"Damon, you are about as manly as a goldfish," Caroline butt in. "Oh, didn't you dump Charlotte because she messed with your family?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Doesn't mean a thing, Caroline," Damon threw back.

"Whatever. Lay off Elena and find some other girl to release your obvious frustration on."

Their eyes met in a tense stare that was only broken when their food was brought in. Caroline dropped her eyes to the plate of pizza in front of her and grabbed her knife and fork to cut it, ending their wordless battle as easily as she ended the conversation five seconds ago.

Damon Salvatore was never being soft with other people. Caroline was so damn blinded by his relationship with his friends and family that she had forgotten he was a total asshole to her for the last two years.

Once again, his gaze flicked to Elena, but hers was firmly focused on her plate. Damon grabbed his fork and looked at his own dinner. Caroline, Stefan, Enzo and Alaric…she looked at all of them when she talked to them. But when she talked to him….she was treating him like a piece of shit not worth being on her shoe.

Elena was soft spoken, but it was controlled and precise. Like every word was prepicked, and she was trying not to offend. Hell, even when she said something that could be offensive it was still nice.

Damon didn't believe she wanted a change of scenery. _You don't go from the bright lights of Richmond and the harsh regime of Harvard to being a run-around for a band,_ he thought.

It sure as hell wasn't for the money they were paying her either. She had already admitted to a privileged upbringing, and if she didn't, it was obvious from that perfect hairdo and that damn dress.

All she didn't have was a sense of entitlement.

The girl was one big enigma, and hell if he didn't want to crack her code, if only to get under her skin and piss her off.

Empty plates were cleared from the table, and Caroline was chatting with Stefan. Alaric and Enzo cracked a joke, and Caroline and Stefan burst out in laughter. Elena watched them with a light smile, but it dropped when she glanced at Damon and saw him watching her.

Their eyes met for a split second, but something flashed in hers. Something that didn't usually glint in girls' eyes whenever they looked at him, so it was sure as hell not good.

"Caroline," she said softly, turning away from him. "I'm going to head back upstairs. It has been great to meet everyone, but I need to arrange for a new phone and credit card."

Caroline nodded without questioning her. "Of course. I will stop by your room at nine tomorrow. The guys will be practicing all day, which translates to us running around like headless chickens after them."

"We aren't that bad," Stefan grumbled.

Caroline raised an eyebrow, but she didn't respond.

Elena smiled. "Sounds like…fun. Night, everyone." She stood, waved awkwardly, and headed out of the room.

 _Why does she need a new phone and credit card?_ Damon wondered.

"Where are you going?" Caroline sighed heavily, looking at him.

Damon got up and flattened his hands on the table. "I'm going to tell her what you forgot—that she is our employee and we will get her a phone and credit card if she needs one."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "Trust me, I could tell her, but she would laugh at me. I can tell."

"Sure she will. You would give up convincing her after one 'no.' " Damon paused at the door. "But she will do whatever the hell I say because I'm her boss."

"Don't be a dick!" Alaric yelled after him.

Damon walked through the restaurant to the lobby and saw Elena leaning against the reception desk, nodding at something the receptionist said. Without the judgment of his brother and friends, he stopped and looked at her. Her hair fell all the way down her back, and her dress clung just tightly enough that he could tell it was concealing a killer body—and her legs went on forever. Aw, hell.

She smiled and straightened, turning for the elevator. Damon jogged across the lobby and beat her to the button, his thumb pushing it just seconds before hers did.

"Oh. Hi."

His lips tugged to the side. "Hi."

"Are you following me?"

"No, darling. I'm the followed, not the follower." Damon put his hand on the side of the door and let her walked into the elevator before him. He pushed the button to the fourth floor and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Obviously. Well, can I help you with something?"

"Dangerous question," he remarked, ignoring her subsequent eye roll. "You said you need a new phone and credit card."

"Correct." She tucked some of that dark brown hair behind her ear.

"Caroline should have told you that we will arrange that. For as long as you work for us."

"She told me she would get me a new phone but I don't think that is necessary, Mr Salvatore. I'm perfectly fine doing it myself."

"Sure you are, Elena, but you are not going to. You are our employee and we will take care of you."

"Well, thank you, but like I said, it isn't necessary." Elena smiled shyly and stepped out of the elevator ahead of him.

Damon's jaw clenched. He didn't give a damn if it was necessary or if she wanted it or not. "They will be in your name. We will take care of the phone bill, but the credit card is on you."

Her shoulders heaved and she turned her head halfway over her shoulder, her eyes on his feet. "Thank you, but no thank you."

Elena slid her key card into the slot, but before she could open the door, Damon snatched her hand away. She flinched in shock, and he turned her so she was facing me. Still, though, her eyes were on his shoulder.

"When you wake up tomorrow there will be a phone and credit card in reception waiting for you, and you will take it. And, Elena?" Damon cupped her jaw and forced her eyes upward. They crashed into his, blazing with annoyance, and he tilted his face towards hers, enjoying the hitch in her breath. "For someone concerned about my manners, you have a serious lack of them. When I talk to you, you have to look at me. Understand?"

Wordlessly, Elena stepped back, and Damon let his hand fell. She nodded once, quickly, and yanked on the door handle. She disappeared inside the room in a split second, leaving Damon standing in the middle of the hall, staring at the closed white door.

Wondering why the hell her annoyed gaze was riddled with fear.


	3. Chapter 3

The Mystic Falls Stadium was in darkness except for the stage. Silence filled the stands, but the first few rows and stage were, again, a different story. Final practices were always crazy, because there was always something that needed changing before tomorrow's sound check.

Like Damon couldn't stop looking at the tall girl with long hair who kept smiling at him.

"Damon. Seriously," Pearl, the music production manager, snapped. "Can you focus?"

"Can you get this chick out of here?" Damon nodded towards the tall girl. "Until then, no, I can't."

Pearl pressed her fingertips to her forehead and turned towards the girl. "Ivy, go backstage to wardrobe and ask them for a damn turtleneck."

Ivy. That was her name. She had a charming smile but somehow she still lacked something. He still preferred the way Elena smiled, Damon thought. What the hell? Why was he thinking about her out of a sudden?

Pearl looked at Damon once Ivy had left and narrowed her eyes. "Now can you concentrate?"

Damon stared at her, not saying a word. Seriously, she should know better by now. It didn't take much to distract him—and if a girl kept on smiling and flirting with him, she was going to distract the hell out of him.

"Can you think with your fingers and not your penis?"

Damon smirked. "I can think with them and I can act with them, Pearl."

"Get your head in the game, dickhead, and maybe she will let you get your head somewhere else after practice," Enzo called to him.

"No one will be getting heads anywhere after this!" Pearl shrieked.

"Can we be professional? For five minutes?" Stefan groaned.

"Sure we can, baby brother. On Saturday, where there are a ton of girls out there begging for my head." Damon half-grinned.

"Enough!" Pearl's voice rang out through the stadium. She looked at all of them, but her eyes lingered on Damon for a second longer. "You all have to perform in twenty-four hours. Damon, if you need a break, I will send someone for a Playboy, all right? And you," she turned on Enzo, "stop encouraging him with promises that won't happen. Ivy is staff. Do you hear that? Staff." She glared. "Damon?"

"Ivy is staff and off-limits to my bed," Damon responded dutifully, setting his guitar on his lap.

"Thank you." Pearl stepped back and sat down. "Can we start with 'Everything'?"

"Yep," Enzo said before Damon could argue. Damn. This wasn't Damon's favourite song.

Enzo knocked his sticks against the side of his drum and counted them in. Damon's fingers moved to the strings of his guitar almost automatically. "Everything" was one of their first songs, and no doubt the one that made girls all over the country fall for Stefan's drawl. It's more sentimental than rock, more emotion than music, one he wrote for their cousin Sarah Salvatore on her wedding a few years back.

Damon preferred rock music. He hated sentimental songs because he didn't understand it. But he knew a lot of the girls loved sentimental songs.

Stefan sang, his voice taking on the same low and husky tone it always did when they played this song, and Damon's eyes half shut. His fingers, his body, they didn't understand his dislike. They understood the vibrations of the music. They understood the humming of the strings, wave after wave of melody.

Each note was a transportation to another place, where only them and the music resided. It had always been the same, even when there were thousands of girls screaming at them. As soon as the notes hit, it was them, at home, in the garage, dreaming of something bigger.

The echo of the stadium didn't exist. The endless resonance of the music didn't exist.

It was them, a bunch of young guys with an unattainable dream. Not them, one of America's favourite band.

It was a bunch of fighting brothers, snapping at each other, all battling for the same thing. Now that they were here, it didn't make a difference. They fought because they cared. Because this damn dream wasn't a dream. It was real, and none of them wanted to let it go. None of them would let it go.

Because the dream wasn't all lights and freedom and relaxation. It wasn't all fun and laughs like they thought it would be. It was hard work, it was long hours, and it was worth it.

 _I am thinking of you today and everything that you are_

 _I am caring for you today_

 _Though tomorrow we'll have to part_

 _And all these memories I hold_

 _Someday might grow cold_

 _But today you're everything, oh, to me_

 _Oh, you are everything to me..._

His last word was long and drawn out, fitting with the echoing vibrations of the guitar strings. As they did after every song, they looked up at Pearl for her approval. It was an instinctive movement now, because they might have a PA to keep their asses in line, but Pearl was the chick that whipped them into shape.

And damn, Damon shouldn't have thought about their PA, because now all he could think of was Elena's long legs disappearing beneath her dress.

"Damon. Are you listening?"

"Agree with every word, Pearl." He snapped his eyes to her.

"You didn't hear a thing I said, did ya?"

Damon shook his head slowly. "Not a damn thing."

She shut her eyes briefly and jerked her head to the side towards the door. "Lunch is here. You all take an hour…Damon, maybe you should take two or I'm going to kill you."

"Pearl." Damon set his guitar down and clasped his hands to his chest. "I'm hurt, baby. You would kill me?"

She smirked. "Keep your puppy-dog eyes for Saturday night, Damon Salvatore. You aren't charming me. I'm here to make sure you all don't mess shit up and that you don't cause any more media frenzies." She waved and turned. "If you all need me for some dumb reason, you have my number."

With that, Pearl slipped past Caroline and Elena in the doorway and disappeared.

"Are you all being pains again?" Caroline sighed.

"Us?" Enzo snorted. "Just Damon."

"Me?" Damon gasped. "No!"

"Liar!" Alaric scowled at him. "You aren't concentrating."

"I was concentrating," Damon protested. "I…'Everything' isn't my favourite. You guys know that, right?"

Caroline looked at him flatly. "You know, Damon, you need to pull your act together or someone is going to shove something in a very uncomfortable part of your body."

"Sorry, Caroline." Damon shrugged casually. "I don't get things shoved in me. Shoving something somewhere else, however…"

Elena wrinkled her face and looked at Alaric. "Are you all always so crude?"

"Nope." He swigged from a bottle of water. "Just him."

"How do you cope?" Elena directed that at Caroline.

"I drink a lot of wine." Caroline bit into her sandwich and looked at her seriously. "Don't worry. I have a stash of it for situations like this. "

"She is well trained," Damon sniggered.

A bread crust promptly hit Damon in the face.

"Bite me," she snaps.

"Be nice, princess," Stefan said. "He is in a good mood today. We don't want to anger him."

Damon clicked his tongue. "Fancy your ass kicked, little brother?"

"You can't kick my ass!" Stefan retorted.

"Damon!" Caroline gasped. "Stefan! I don't know who to yell at!"

"Damon," Elena responded, hugging her knees to her chest on her seat. "He said it first."

"You just took the top spot on my dislike list," Damon told her, trying not to focus on the way her shirt pulled her tits together. Because, that cleavage was begging for his face to be buried in it.

"Good. That means you are less likely to try and seduce me."

"Hey, let's go get some coffee," Caroline said. "Stefan," she added in a firm tone, then glanced at Enzo and Alaric.

"Coming," they said together.

The side door to the stage shuts, and Elena swallowed. Her apprehension was evident, and Damon didn't blame her. He could feel this tension between them, the one he felt last night, and it was going drive both of them crazy.

Leaning forward, Damon licked his lips. "Not necessarily," he told her. "Because if there is anything you need to know about me, darling, it is that I don't try to do anything. I do it straightaway. So if I was trying to seduce you, you would be seduced."

"Should I be honoured?" she replied in a small but strong voice.

"That I haven't seduced you?"

"Yes."

"Maybe. For all I know, you are the kind of girl who needs to be pinned against a wall and kissed before you realize you are being seduced."

Elena paused, or rather, she froze, her eyes flashing with a hint of that fear Damon saw last night. "Good luck trying to find out," she retorted, standing and smoothing her shirt out. Her eyes lingered on the floor, then rose to his. "I can guarantee you won't, Mr Salvatore, so kindly stop assuming you will, because you will be sorely disappointed."

His eyes blazed at her words. And Elena knew that, inadvertently, she just challenged him. She also knew guys like Damon Salvatore would take a challenge and follow it through. It was their fire, and she just handed him the fuel to ignite it.

"Is that right, darling?" Damon spoke slowly, each word drawn out into a stomach-fluttering drawl.

"Our relationship is strictly professional," Elena reminded him, looping her thumbs through the belt loops on her shorts. "I would prefer it to stay that way."

"We are going to be butting heads something crazy, then." His eyes were still fully on her, and Elena swore they were holding her captive. The power of his stare sent a hard shiver down her spine.

"The only things we will be butting is schedules." She grabbed her water bottle and sandwich packet. She needed to do something with her hands because they were trembling, and it was obvious. At least to her. "Good-bye, Mr Salvatore."

Elena took a step forward and Damon stood, towering over her by several inches. She drew in a sharp breath and kept her eyes down, even though she flinched as her sandwich packet crumbles against her. Her muscles were taut, reacting instantly to the shadow settling over her, waiting for a hit.

"Did you get your card before we left? And phone?"

Her head moved jerkily in something that vaguely resembled a nod.

"Do they work okay?"

Again, Elena nodded. This time it was a little more controlled.

"Good."

Damon didn't move.

Neither did Elena.

She was still staring at their feet. The toes of his deep blue Chucks were inches away from hers, and she flexed her toes in her sandals. Her body was screaming and flitting between fight or flight, but her feet were fully in the "flight" camp.

He still didn't move. Why wouldn't he move?

Elena couldn't until he did. Her body wasn't trained to run, no matter how it wanted to.

Liam had never let her run. And the one time she was stupid enough to, she "accidentally kicked the solid wood table leg to get to the burning stove and broke two toes." Which, of course, meant she was shoved into it and in her fight to regain her footing, slammed into the thick table leg.

Elena squeezed her eyes shut tightly at the memory, a shudder racking her body. Fear inched its way from her gut to her heart and clenched it tightly, and at the loud opening of a door, she jolted backward.

"Elena?" Damon's voice was quieter this time.

Her breathing was short and harsh, and it ached. Each inhale burned her lungs, and she swallowed. "I have some things to do. Excuse me."

Damon stepped to the side and Elena walked around him, trying her hardest not to run. Because she wanted to. She wanted to give in to the panic buzzing through her veins and run, run, run.

"Elena?" Caroline's soft, caring voice made her pause. "Are you all right?"

Elena nodded, looking up to meet her eyes. "I have a bit of a headache. I'm going to find some Tylenol, and then we can go through the schedules we talked about earlier."

Her brow furrowed and she frowned at Elena. "Are you sure you are okay?"

"Of course I'm."

Her forehead smoothed out again, and she smiled. "Okay. Why don't you go back to the hotel and take a nap? You might feel better."

Elena glanced at Stefan "Is—is that okay?"

"Sure," he replied slowly, his eyes uncomfortably intense. "We are pretty laid-back. If you are sick, go sleep it off."

"Thank you." Elena averted her eyes and darted through the door. But not quick enough, because she heard Caroline hissed, "Damon! What the hell did you do to her?" and him replied, "Nothing!"

Elena dumped her half-eaten sandwich into one of the trash cans outside the arena and leaned against the outside wall. The fresh air swirled around her, filling her lungs with a welcome reprieve from the stuffiness inside.

Jesus. She had nothing to be afraid of. Except her own fears and her memories. Those she feared, even if Liam couldn't touch her anymore.

It was still too real and raw to consider for a second that no one else would either, not the way Liam did.

 _Note to self: work on the scared little girl routine. She isn't the girl inside. She is the girl the outside has been moulded into. She is the perfect, smiling, charming trophy-wife-to-be._

 _Inside, she is different. I'm different. Maybe I don't know exactly who I am yet, but I know I'm not afraid._

Fear was a habit.

And Elena would break it.

x x x

A soft knock at the door jolted Elena from her mindless staring at the TV set mounted on the wall of her suite. After the showdown with Damon—which she had definitely made more frightening in her mind since—she had felt nothing but fear pumping through her body. Every voice outside her door was Liam coming to find her, and every knock at the door was him finding her. So for all her bravado, the past had crept in.

She had been sitting curled in a ball, watching reruns of sitcoms and game shows, attempting to remind herself that the voices outside the door were The S, and the knock on the door was just room service with her nachos.

"Elena? Are you there?" Caroline called, knocking again.

Elena swallowed, swung her feet down from the sofa, and crossed the room quickly. She paused, her hand hovering just above the handle. Dammit, she wished there was a peephole.

Opening the door, Elena offered a small smile. "Hi. Sorry. I was just getting dressed."

Caroline glanced at her yoga pants–clad legs. "Into yoga pants?"

"Err . . . I was half out of them. It was easier to put them back on." Elena shrugged sheepishly and stepped to the side. "Is everything okay?"

Caroline nodded, smiled, and dropped onto the sofa. "I was just coming to tell you we are leaving in thirty minutes."

"Oh, all right. I will just get ready."

"Um, are you okay? I know you were sick yesterday, and I didn't want to bother you then, but, well, my instincts are coming out here, and I'm kind of worried because I didn't hear from you." Her smile turned hesitant.

"Oh—oh, yes, I'm fine, thank you." Elena tucked some hair behind her ear and looked down. "I took it easy when I came back here." _Note to self: whenever a "thing" needs doing and you fake sickness, text Caroline._

"Oh, good! If your headache comes back today, let me know and I will get you a doctor." She smiled. "I will let you get ready."

"Thanks." Elena turned back to her room.

"Shorts! Shorts," Caroline called after her. "And tie your hair up. They are crazy on these days, and all the running around makes you hot."

"Got it." Now to find the clothes she was supposedly just getting changed into.

Thankfully her suitcase was open, because she was too lazy to keep zipping and unzipping it—and she was revelling in the newfound freedom of everything not having to be completely perfect like before.

And, yes, that was yesterday's shirt peeking out from beneath the desk. It was invigorating.

Elena flipped the top of the suitcase and pushed her things around inside until she found some denim cut-offs. Grabbing a loose, grey round neck T-shirt and underwear, she straightened and changed quickly. She kept Caroline's words in mind as she brushed her hair and tied it in a scruffy bun.

"Hey, are you good?" Caroline peeked her head around her bedroom door.

"Oh, yeah." Elena looked across the room at her with her mascara wand in her hand. "What's up?"

"I…um." Caroline walked through and perched on the edge of her bed. "Look, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, because Damon is a giant asshole, okay?"

"Uh, okay?"

"I have noticed that whenever you are around him you get kind of…skittish." Caroline frowned. "That might not be the right word, but whatever. Anyway," she met Elena's eyes, "and after he has pulled his 'me macho man' crap, you are the same around the rest of the guys. If Damon is making you uncomfortable in any way, tell me, and I will talk to him."

"Oh." Elena's cheeks flushed. "It is okay."

"Elena, seriously. You all have to work together and be comfortable around each other, and you definitely shouldn't be uncomfortable enough that you have to leave."

"It is not Damon." Elena replaced her mascara into her makeup bag. "I just…I'm not a guy kind of girl."

"Oh!" Caroline clasped her hands over her mouth. "Well, I just put my foot in my mouth, didn't I? I'm so sorry! Wait—no, I'm sorry, I'm an ass, not that…you know."

Elena's eyes widen as the implications of her words settled in. "Crap! I don't mean—oh hell." She covered her face with her hands. "Well, this is awkward. I'm not into girls. Like, I don't mean it like that." Her eyes were seriously doing some kind of shifty dance right now. "I mean I'm not looking for a relationship. With a guy. Right now. I like guys. Oh God. I should probably stop talking right now."

Caroline laughed loudly. "Oh shit, now I really am sorry!" She got up, still giggling. "Okay. I got it. But if Damon does make you uncomfortable, you will tell me, right?"

Elena wanted to join her in her laughter, because since the second she met Damon Salvatore's eyes, she had been uncomfortable. "He is okay. He just has a distinct lack of understanding about personal space."

Both women shared a smile at that.

"That is because no one generally complains when Damon encroaches on their personal space. He is invited in most times." Caroline held open the room door and passed Elena the key card. "Here. I need to go back to my room to get my bag and I will get Stefan. Could you just knock on Alaric's and Enzo's doors and tell them we are ready to go? They are the next two rooms. Damon's at the end, but I will get his lazy ass."

"Oh. Sure." Elena ignored the flutter of uncertainty. "Just knock and tell them it is time to go?"

"Yep. They need a ten-minute warning because they are a bunch of girls." Caroline smiled and opened her room door.

"Who you calling a bunch of girls?" Stefan appeared at the door way.

"Your brother and your buddies," Caroline replied without missing a beat. "Elena is about to get Alaric and Enzo, then I will get Damon in a minute. Can you take my bag and laptop to the car?"

"Yes, madam." Stefan winked at Elena and walked inside the room to get Caroline's bag and laptop. According to TMZ, Stefan and Caroline had been dating for the last six months. They did look comfortable together. Maybe that was how a couple should be, Elena thought. Comfortable. But she was never comfortable with Liam. There was only fear.

"Idiot." Caroline rolled her eyes, then turns to me with a wide, reassuring smile. "I will meet you in the lobby in five minutes."

"Sure." Elena smiled, but it was weak. Lame. Pathetic.

The door to Caroline's room closed and Elena leaned against the wall. With her purse by her feet, she dropped her head back and closed her eyes as an overwhelming sense of apprehension flooded her.

Was she really this weak when it came to Liam?

Was she really so afraid and run-down that knocking on a door was fear-inducing?

Dammit all to hell.

Elena slapped her hands against her cheeks hard. "Pull yourself together, Elena!" she whispered.

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity," a voice behind her said.

Elena turned and looked at Alaric.

"Then I'm probably already halfway there." Her lips twitched.

"I know Damon can be a pain sometimes," Alaric said. "Trust me, he is a good guy."

"I'm sure he is," Elena said dryly, before offering a soft smile. "Caroline said to tell you we are leaving in ten minutes. Which is more like five now," she added apologetically. "I just need to get Enzo."

"Got it. Meet in the lobby?"

"Yes." Elena nodded unnecessarily and then passed him. She approached Enzo's door and knocked lightly three times after Alaric had disappeared.

"Elena." Enzo pulled the door open and—sweet baby Jesus where was his shirt?

Her eyes widened. "Oh. Enzo. Hi. Um." And now her eyes were flitting over his chest and stomach. Still wide.

Awesome.

"Are you okay, Elena?"

"Yes! I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting you to be, um, shirtless." She coughed and met his eyes. "Caroline said to be in the lobby in five minutes."

"Sure." He smiled charmingly. "And you are living with a bunch of guys for the next couple months. You should probably get used to the no-shirt thing."

"Got it." Elena smiled awkwardly and turn, hugging her purse to herself.

"Put a shirt on, Enzo." Damon's gravelly, annoyed voice followed Elena down the hallway. "There is nobody around here that wants to see you naked."

Enzo laughed. "You feeling threatened, bro?"

Elena paused by the elevator and glanced over her shoulder.

"By what? Your weak ass? Go to hell." Damon looked up and caught her eye. "What do you reckon, princess? Is this prick hotter than me?"

Her lips parted. Swallowing in a desperate attempt to kill the dryness in her mouth, she replied, "My name is Elena."

"That wasn't the question." Damon's lips quirked to the side. "Is he hotter than me?"

"Obviously I am if you got to ask," Enzo scoffed, shutting his door behind him. This time with his shirt on.

"Well?" Damon pushed, ignoring him.

"I, er…" Elena straightened. "I really don't think I should answer that question, to be honest."

Damon's eyebrows went up. "It isn't hard, darling. All you got to do is say my name."

Elena didn't know if she should laugh or be shocked by his brashness. Damon was unlike anyone she had ever met, and she was not sure if that was a good thing. He was completely arrogant, but not in an unlikable way. Which made absolutely no sense to her, because the most arrogant person she knew was the person she hated the most.

"But if I say your name, you might think I like you." Elena hooked her thumb in her pocket. "And then that would boost your ego, and if it gets any bigger, I'm afraid you won't fit on the stage tonight. So, as your assistant, it is in my best interests not to do that."

Enzo burst out laughing just as Alaric's door opened. He looked around and opened his mouth, but when he saw Damon, he shut it again.

If Damon's eyes could spit fire, she would be going up in flames. His shadowed jaw was set tight, and Elena could see the tiny tic in his cheek from the pressure.

She reached behind and pushed the button for the elevator. "You have to be downstairs in two minutes, ready to leave." She looked between all three of them, then stepped back. "Oh, and Mr Salvatore?" She focused on Damon, her gaze steady. "To answer your question, I'm going with Alaric."

His eyes darkened and he moved to speak, but it didn't matter, because the doors closed on his words and ended the conversation.

Elena dropped her purse to the floor and flattened her back against the wall of the elevator. She stared at the doors, holding her breath.

She didn't know what that was—that switched from scared to sassy. It was not the first time it had happened since she got here, and she didn't know where it came from, but she thought she liked it. It reminded her of the girl she was before any sense of herself was beaten out of her.

Elena retrieved her purse from the floor and stepped out of the elevator. The lobby was bustling with the guys' security team, and she could see why. Outside the hotel there was a large group of girls barely being held back by yet more security guards dressed head to toe in black.

"Is it always like this?" Elena asked one of the bodyguards, stepping up beside him.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. "We take it in stride."

The elevator doors opened and she turned to see Stefan with his arm around Caroline, flanked by Enzo and Alaric, and finally, a still-angry Damon. Elena fought the urge to shrink back as he approached them. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest and defiantly held his gaze.

"We ready to go?" he asked—presumably—the bodyguard, his eyes still on her.

"Yes, sir," the bodyguard responded. "Stefan, you and the girls get in the car first."

"Got it." Stefan nodded. "Elena?"

"She rides with me," Damon said firmly. "We need to have a word or two."

Her chest heaved. Maybe it was his words. Or maybe it was the look in his eye. The one that was scary and…a little…exciting…at the same time.

"Elena?" Caroline questioned, moving slowly towards the door.

"He is the boss," Elena replied, blinking harshly.

Damon's jaw clenched. "Get in the second car," he ordered through clenched teeth. He stormed past her, and Elena forced herself to inhale slowly.

 _Damon isn't him. He isn't him. He isn't him._ Elena chanted relentlessly inside her mind as she followed Damon's tensed, muscular body to the car. Girls were screaming his name, but he ignored every one, determination to get to the waiting vehicle evident in every one of his steps.

He yanked open the door of the black SUV. "Get in," he demanded, nodding at her.

Elena climbed into the backseat and scooted along it.

"Then ride with Alaric," Damon snapped to someone over his shoulder. He jumped in the backseat and slammed the door behind him.

Elena edged a little closer to the door as he leaned forward and closed the partition. Her heart thumped—that thing, it was soundproof. This was a tiny space. Enclosed. Totally private.

She wiped her now-sweating hands on her thighs.

"All right, princess. Let's have a talk."

"My name is Elena," she snapped. "It is not hard."

Damon rested his hand on the seat between them and leaned forward. "I will call you 'assistant' if that is what I want to call you. I'm your boss, and if I want to call you princess, I'm going to call you princess. You got it?"

Annoyance warmed her stomach. "What? Is Elena too complicated for you to remember? Two syllables too many?"

His fingers twitched. "You talk too much."

"So do you."

"I can remedy that."

"I dare you." Elena glared at him. When he didn't move, she continued, "As you just said, you are my boss, and yet again this is a highly inappropriate conversation. Unless you have me in here to discuss something serious with me, I don't wish to continue this."

Damon stared at her, and a tension-filled silence ensued. And, boy, Elena would hate to get into a staring contest with Damon Salvatore, because he was relentless. For what seemed like the millionth time, his eyes were on her, studying her, unnerving her. Intense and angry and fiery, those blue eyes were so bright they were rendering her immobile.

"Watch your damn mouth." Each word was edged with anger and saturated in restraint. "I don't give a damn how you spoke to people in your fancy-ass, upper-class world back in Richmond, but I sure as hell aren't going to have some stuck-up daughter of a high roller coming into my world as my employee and talking to me like I'm worth less than her."

Did Damon just—? "Excuse me?" Elena gasped. "Talking to you like trash? If you demand respect, Mr Salvatore, you should perhaps try and respect other people. Funnily enough, that doesn't include turning every conversation into something remotely sexual. Not every woman you meet wants to take a ride on what is inside your pants." Elena put her hand back on her purse as they pulled up outside the arena. "And you are right. You don't know a thing about my life in Richmond, so don't sit and assume I have lived twenty-two years of glittery rainbows and frolicking unicorns."

Elena was shaking as she shoved the car door open and got out. Fear and anger were swirling through her body, both of them battling for dominance with the adrenaline pumping through her veins. It was unnerving, the anger. It was so out of place for her, and so were the words she just spoke.

She didn't argue. She didn't answer back, and she sure as hell didn't disrespect people.

She didn't.

She didn't.

Elena Gilbert, perfect fiancée of Liam Davis, didn't.

As of two days ago, she was not her.

She was Elena Gilbert, not a victim, and not afraid.

She feared nothing.

If Elena kept telling herself that, maybe she wouldn't be so shocked the next time Damon Salvatore decided to annoy the living crap out of her and she bit back.


	4. Chapter 4

_She is a pretty firecracker all wrapped up with a demure little bow,_ Damon thought.

One minute she was wiping her sweaty, trembling hands on her legs, and the next she was staring him down and twisting his balls so tightly with her words that they had turned blue from blood loss. And, Jesus, where the hell did it come from?

 _Should have leaned over the damn seat and kissed her when she dared me to,_ he thought.

To hell with being her boss. To hell with Caroline's damn stupid-ass rules. To hell with Elena's sassy little smart mouth.

Next time she so much as glanced at him with a hint of her sass, he was going to kiss it right out of her. It wasn't his fault she had got pretty, pouty pink lips just begging for it.

Elena went from shy to confident faster than a damn yo-yo spins on its string. And Damon didn't understand it. Or her. A single bit.

He shouldn't want to, but he did. From the point of view of her employer. If she was going to be acting like someone with bipolar they should know.

Damon rolled his shoulders, ignoring the screaming coming from the front of the stage. Yeah. As an employer. That was why he wanted to know.

"Five minutes," Pearl said, a headset on her ear and a tablet in her hand. "And—"

"Don't mess up," the boys all said, their voices echoing.

"We know, Pearl. We know," Stefan added.

She frowned for a second. "Be ready. They are screaming out there."

"We got ears, you know." Damon leaned back. "Pretty sure I have heard them chanting my name more than once tonight."

Pearl's lips curled in both annoyance and amusement. "One day, Damon Salvatore, you are going to find yourself a girl that will rip you off your pretty little pedestal. I for one cannot wait. Three minutes." She casted her eyes over them before disappearing again.

Stefan chuckled. Damon looked over at him. "What?"

He smirked. "She is right. And I think I know that girl."

"Bro, Caroline has got attitude, but not that much attitude." Damon snorted.

"Elena, dumbass," Alaric interjected.

"Right. The fancy-ass Richmond girl that has to organize our shit. Yeah, that is the one, man. She is the girl that is going to bring me to my knees." Damon shook his head and leaned back in the chair. "Can't you see? I attached my Chucks to my knees already so I'm prepared for the fall."

"Attached them where?" Caroline asked, walking in. "To another girl's bedpost? I wouldn't be surprised."

Damon snapped his eyes to the door where she was standing, Caroline at her side. "Yeah," he responded, looking at Caroline. "That is exactly where they are. Ready for tonight."

"Well, be back in time to call your mother like you promised." She pursed her lips. "Because I'm not going to call her for you."

Stefan nodded in agreement, and Damon glanced between them. Holding his hands up, he said, "You all think I'm going to let my dearest mother down? Hell no. I am not that dumb."

"Makes a change," Enzo retorted, grinning.

Damon stared at him flatly. _Yeah, I'm an asshole. I'm a prick, a heartless dick, a love them and leave them guy. I don't even love them. I take what I want and leave. Simple. But letting my mother down is out of the question._

"Two minutes," Elena said softly from behind Caroline. "You guys needs to move."

Damon looked at her, breathing heavily but slowly as the rush of adrenaline built inside him. It was always the same. Until the last call, until the moment they had to get off their asses, he was cool. They all were. Then they were called for two minutes, and they had to move into the wings, and it got real.

There were more name-screams; the excited kind that tingled across his skin, and soon, there would be more echoing and deafening yells of their lyrics. Their lyrics. The ones they wrote over breakfast at the kitchen table, at family parties in the corner, and even the ones they wrote at Mom and Dad's wedding anniversary dinner.

It was another stage. Another concert. Another sell-out. Another dream came true.

"Now," Elena added, her eyes barely lingering on Damon's for a second before they dropped to the floor.

Another moment of staring at her passed before Damon got up and turned away. Damn, he hated it when people didn't look at him when they were talking to him. This chick only did it when she was pissed at him with some bullshit adrenaline-induced bravado.

He slammed the dressing room door open and walked the halls until they reached the wings.

"Thirty seconds," Pearl whispered.

Her eyes fell on each of them, one after the other, her gaze full of apprehension and confidence. A crazy mix, one that should make no sense but did. It was the feeling Damon had swirling in his stomach right now. He was nauseated yet excited as hell. Ten steps and he would meet his Kryptonite, his dream, his happily ever after.

His guitar.

"And…go."

Stefan stepped past him and led them out the way he always did. The youngest leading the oldest—get a load of that.

But it didn't matter.

Because the crowd screamed. Stefan grabbed his mic. Damon and Alaric grabbed their guitars. Enzo spin his drumsticks.

And the music was all that matters.

Damon downed the bottle of water Elena handed to him and dropped it into the trash. She nodded softly, stepping back as they made their way back out for the second half of the show.

There were the screams—always the screams. Shouts and yells and the damn screams that made his ears rang.

Damon adjusted his earpiece until the backing track started playing. They fell into the music, Stefan's words unknown to them. All that matters here were hitting the notes and getting it right.

Their names were screamed, they had hit the billboards and were on the verge of a platinum album—but they were still teenage boys in their parents' garage. They would never forget that.

Damon never would.

Their priorities were what they were then—getting it right.

The song petered out and Stefan rested his mic in the stand. "Phew," he said, wiping his brow. "Hey, can I get a towel here? I'm doing an Olaf and melting!"

Cries rang out as a towel came flying and landed by his feet. Stefan bent down, grabbed it, and wiped it across his forehead.

"Damn," he drawled, throwing his towel into the darkness of the wings. "It is a good thing you all are worth melting for. Am I right?"

Damon's lips twitched up. Classic crowd-pleaser. That was why he was the front man—his little brother made the girls swoon even when he wasn't singing.

"All right, ladies, keep the panties on," Stefan teased, laughing. "You all can form an orderly queue to give them to Damon after the show. There are even Sharpies provided for your number-writing convenience."

He turned back and winked at Damon dramatically.

"You know I am not turning that down, baby brother," Damon answered, just like they expected him to. Same shit, different concert. "Back door, ladies," he casted his eyes over the crowd, "I will make sure security pass them on."

Enzo added a drum roll for good measure. Quietly, he laughed, then smirked at Damon.

They all knew Damon didn't call those numbers. The girls could hand their scribbled-on panties to the security but Damon would make sure they end up in the trash.

"All right, all right," Stefan interjected to the swoony-screamy thing going on. "You all want some music or are you here to see my brother?"

There was a mixture of "music" and "brother," and Damon chuckled. Grabbing his mic, he said "How about I sing you all a little something? Yeah?"

The four of them met eyes as the crowd screamed. It was for sure. Every time. Stefan might make them swoon, but Damon made them melt. End of story.

"Okay, ladies. You all ready? Grab those panties," Enzo said, strumming on his guitar. "This is about to get real."

Damon looked down at his guitar and ran his fingers across the strings. Alaric counted them in, and Damon closed his eyes, the music humming across his skin.

Word after word, the lyrics fell from his mouth, giving them something to dream of, to believe in, although it would never be theirs. They hoped anyway, grasping onto his words until everything was gone.

 _Though the world out there_

 _May be cold to all we share_

 _I have you, to take me through the night_

 _And if we hold on tight_

 _And stay true to all that's right_

 _Then baby, our love will always last..._

 _And if we hold on tight, stay true to all that's right_

 _Then baby, our love will always last_

Damon strummed the last chords of the song, the final words crushing everything the song built it up to be. But how could love last forever? He didn't believe love could last. It was the truth.

He was too focused on the band for something more than one night. His love would never last.

Enzo smiled at his from his perch on his stool and Damon glared back at him. Enzo was as bad as he was. His longest affair lasted a week—Damon's was Andie, before she sold his family out for her own ass. Even then, she was lucky to get ten days of his time.

He looked back at his guitar and let the next song flowed over him. The music, the lyrics—they were second nature, even their newest single was. They were all buried under his skin, pounding with every beat of their collaboration.

His fingers teased the guitar strings endlessly. The music flowed through his veins, a rush and comfort. An exhilaration and a soother. A total contradiction, but one that made sense nonetheless.

Song after song it went, one after another, beat after chord, chord after lyric, lyric after scream, scream after blackout.

They set their instruments down softly and walked back into the wings. Elena was standing in the place where he was before, clasping a bottle of water. Damon closed his fingers around the neck of the bottle, he was barely an inch from hers, and paused.

"You did good," she said softly, swallowing before she looked up and met his eyes.

Damon stared into her dark eyes, the colour of dark chocolate, of a coffee after a night of no sleep, and he replied, "I know."

He took the bottle from her, unscrewed the cap, and tipped it up, walking past her. He didn't need his cute assistant getting into his head tonight.

 _No, I need some fangirling, groupie-ass bitch to bend over for me so I can relieve this stress,_ Damon thought.

 _Stress? What stress? From the stuck-up assistant? I'm done._

 _I give up._

He threw the empty bottle in the trash and walked outside before the others did. Caroline and Elena would get his shit—it was their damn job. It was what he paid them for. He didn't pay Caroline to date his brother, and he didn't pay Elena to get him wound tighter than his mother's cross-stitch panels.

He paid to make sure he could get out of the stadium, get a girl, get off, then get her gone.

Simple as that.

Damon ran his hand through his hair and shoved the back doors open. There were a few VIP fans there waiting for them, and thankfully, the others were out right after him. They scrawled on sheets of paper, on books, on photos, and posed for endless smartphone pictures.

A blond chick approached and slinked up beside Damon, her arm wrapping around his waist as her friend took their photo. Damon glanced at her—she had a pretty face, and that was all he needed.

"The Mystic Falls Hotel," he murmured in her ear. "Room 445."

Her fingers stroke his side. Damon smiled for one more fake photo and broke away from her. He headed for the SUV without waiting for anyone else and directed the driver back to the hotel. The drive was quick and easy, their route to the hotel unencumbered by anyone else.

He got out of the car and stopped to scrawl on sheets of paper and postcards. One of their guards, flanked him, making sure the fans didn't take things too far. Damon worked his way down the line to the lobby door and, at the last minute, darted inside.

 _This woman better turn up,_ Damon thought.

He took the elevator up to his floor and walked the length of the corridor to his room. No sooner had he shut the door behind him then he heard a knock. It was the blonde—tipsy and grinning.

Damon tugged her through the door and slammed against her. His lips pushed hers harshly, and the taste of vodka made him feel sick.

"Don't you want to know my name?"

He squeezed her ass tightly. "I don't care and I don't need it."

She moved with him to the sofa as Damon wrenched her purse and phone from her hand. They landed on the floor as he cupped her pantie-covered pussy. He popped her tits from their concealment with his other hand and rubbed them, giving them a cursory nipple-lick, but he didn't give a shit about this chick's pleasure.

Damon rubbed her clit for a minute, then rolled a condom on and shoved himself inside her. She cried out but she grabbed at him. Her nails dug at his back as he drove himself into her in the most selfish way he could imagine. Still, her pussy tightened, and with a few short pumps, she cried her release around him.

Damon groaned.

It was fake.

He was still as hard as he was when she walked in the door.

He faked a couple harsh breaths then pulled out of her. "I'm going to clean up. Leave by the time I get back."

Leaving her lying on the sofa with her legs open, Damon strolled into the bedroom and locked the bathroom door. He showered quickly, washing every inch of that woman from him, wishing he could scrub his mind clean of Elena Gilbert.

He walked out with a towel around his waist. Blondie was still on the sofa with her skirt around her hips, but at least her bra was covering her obviously fake tits.

"I thought I said leave."

"Damon," she whimpered. "I thought it was all night."

Damon stared at her. Was she serious? He grabbed his phone and dialled Elena's number.

"Y-yes?"

"I have a situation that needs taking care of."

She paused. "You mean you have a girl that needs removing from your room."

"Aren't you a modern-day Einstein?" He sniped, each word a sharp snap, because this bitch wasn't the brunette that had been dominating his thoughts for the last couple days.

"Five minutes, asshole," Elena responded. She hung up before he could reply.

 _Asshole? Who the hell is she talking to?_ Damon thought. _I'm her boss. How can she talk to me like that?_

There was knocking at his door, finally, after many protestations from the woman sitting on the sofa. Damon opened the door to Elena looking tired yet fresh, and one of the bodyguards. "Get her out." He nodded toward Blondie.

"Damon? What?" she said.

Damon stared at Elena as the blond chick was removed. Clingy bitches. Rolling his shoulders, he rested his hands on either side of the doorframe and asked Elena, "How did you find tonight?"

Elena stepped back. "It was awesome until you called me to clean up your mess."

"It is in your contract, darling."

Her eyes sparked with annoyance. "Actually, it says nothing about removing your entertainment."

Damon leaned forward. "Then I will make a note to amend it in the morning. And, for what it is worth, that wasn't cleaning up my mess. If I wanted you to do that I would have called you five minutes earlier and had you in the shower with me, princess." His eyes ghosted down her body, lingering at her full breasts and toned thighs.

Thinking of her in the shower, naked and wet, was doing all for the erection he couldn't get rid of. In fact, it was downright painful right now.

Elena stared at him stonily, that annoyed spark flaring into full-fledged anger. "Believe me, Mr Salvatore, if the impossible happens and you somehow get me in a shower with you, I would probably drown you, not clean you."

"Damon. My name is Damon."

"And mine is Elena." With one last harsh look, she turned.

Damon stepped into the hall and watched Elena walked to her room. Damn. She really did have a gorgeous body.

"Oh—be ready for eight a.m.," she added, pausing with her hand on her door.

"Going to give me a wake-up call?"

Elena glanced at Damon. "With a rock? Sure. Otherwise, no. You have a cell phone with an alarm function, Mr Salvatore, use it."

Damon laughed as she disappeared into her room. Damn. He didn't have a chance in hell at working this chick out, much less her behaviour, but it was a fun ride.

x x x

 _Note to self: next time Damon Salvatore calls you to his room, make sure he has pants on before you go._

Elena didn't know what annoyed her more, the fact Damon wanted her to get rid of that girl like she was a bag of trash or that he didn't put his pants on before he called me.

Worst thing was that she didn't exactly hate that he wasn't wearing pants.

Maybe that was why she was annoyed. Why she still freaking was. He pulled an asshole move, something totally disrespectful to the girl and to her, and she was still marginally attracted to him.

Marginally. Just a tiny bit. Because, you know, it was easy to find someone that looked, like, that incredibly attractive. With the striking, intense light blue eyes contrasting wonderfully against darkened lashes and eyebrows, a "bad boy" smile, not to mention his lean, defined physique, Damon was like a…...a walking wet dream.

Elena covered her eyes with her hand. _Boss, Elena. No men, Elena. Find yourself before an orgasm, Elena._

"Okay," she whispered to herself. _Damn—here we go again with the talking to myself._ Maybe Alaric was right and she really was going crazy.

She wouldn't be surprised, after everything.

At least Damon's act last night proved something to her. He wouldn't hurt her. If she spoke to Liam the way she spoke to Damon last night, she would be dead right now. At the very least she would be clinging to life desperately.

But Damon…He just stood there and threw words at her. They were sexy words, yep, but that was it. He didn't slam her against a wall with his hand around her neck, or introduce his fist to her nose. He did nothing. Like a normal guy. Like a normal, non-abusive, level-headed guy.

Well, Elena was not sure level-headed guys actually treated women the way Damon treated Siobhan last night, but it was close enough.

"Cake! Damn it!" Caroline shrieked from the other room.

Elena poked her head around the door. "Huh?"

"Stefan will be mad!" She clapped her hands to her cheeks and looked at Elena, horrified. "I forgot to get his mother a birthday cake!"

Stefan moved towards them. "No cake?"

"Oh shit!"

Caroline moved her hands to her mouth and looked at Elena, wide-eyed. "Where's Damon?"

"Damon is behind." Stefan pointed a finger over his shoulder.

Elena glanced in the direction Stefan was pointing. Damon was sitting in a plush chair, slouched back, and was very obviously staring at her. She coughed, and he snapped his eyes up to hers with a smirk.

"Did you already call your mother?" Caroline looked at him.

"Yes," he confirmed. "And I said you are going to bring her a cake. You are going to bake the cake."

Elena's lips twitched into a small smile.

"What?" Caroline glared at him. "I still have to sort out the dinner for tonight. I don't have time to bake!"

"Well, there you go." He held his hands out. "It is her birthday and you promise you are going to bring her a cake."

Caroline sighed heavily. "Okay. I will get a cake."

"I can do it," Elena offered. "I don't mind going to the store."

"It is okay." Caroline rested her hand on Elena's arm. "I will get one of the guys to go."

"I will go with her." Damon stood up and stretched his arms over his head.

"Er," Elena stuttered.

"Do you know your way around Mystic Falls?" He raised his eyebrows.

"I…no," Elena admitted.

"There we go." He looked at Caroline. "Caroline, we will go get her a cake. You go do your thing."

Caroline exhaled slowly. "Okay."

"And stop freaking out. You are driving me crazy when you freak out," he glanced to Stefan. "Mother is going to have fun with us. Isn't that right, brother?"

Stefan grinned. "Right/"

Damon looked at Elena. "Let's go, princess."

Elena glared at his back. Him and that damn nickname.

He got one of the security guards to follow them and led her into the private parking lot. The tour bus took up most of it, but there were a couple of huge SUVs in the corner. Damon pulled some keys from his jeans pocket and pointed a black fob at one of the vehicles.

"Come on." He held the passenger side door open for her.

"Thanks." Elena put her purse on the floor and grabbed the door to help get herself in. Jesus—this thing was massive. "Eeek!" She squealed, feeling Damon's hands on her waist. Fear jolted through her at the touch, but all he did was to boost her up into the car easily.

He walked around to his side, and Elena shook her. Wasn't it only twenty minutes ago that she was telling herself she knew Damon wouldn't hurt her?

Looked like this habit of fear would be harder to break than she thought.

"You all right?" Damon looked at her from the corner of his eyes when he started the car.

Elena nodded her answer, because her mouth was too dry to speak.

"Sure?"

Another nod.

He didn't say anything else, but his eyes flicked to her every few seconds for the next couple of minutes. Elena shifted in her seat. She was uncomfortable with his silent pushing for her to speak, because that was what it was. And it was kind of working, because she wanted to snap at him to stop looking at her.

"You planning on escaping, princess?"

"Huh?" Her head spin in his direction so fast her neck ached.

"You are so close to the door I think you are about to fall out."

Elena slid back into the middle of her seat. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"Oh."

He frowned, but the lights changed at the intersection and his focus was forced back onto the road. Thankfully.

Elena looked at her hands resting in her lap for the rest of their journey to the store. When they got there, she pushed the door open and jumped out of the car. She barely remembered to grabbed her purse. She just knew she needed to get out of the small space.

"Wait," Damon called. Another car pulled up next to theirs and the security guy stepped out. Of course—The S rarely got to go anywhere without being mobbed by either fans or cameras, especially on tour.

Damon and the security guy caught up with her halfway across the parking lot. Another car pulled up and a camera lens was poked out of a window. Immediately, Elena ducked her head so her hair was covering her face.

The more hidden she could stay, the better.

Damon eyed her curiously but didn't say a word, and she was grateful.

The entered the store and walked through the aisles to where the boxed cakes were. Damon scanned the shelves until he found something he wanted. He set it in the cart gently, then turned to her. "Last year Stefan got a cheesecake. I think she will love this cookies cake."

"Cookies cake?"

He stopped and looked back at Elena. "You don't know what is cookies cake?"

"Cake made up of cookies?" Elena guessed.

"Cake covered with Oreo biscuit pieces and lashed with chocolate, this cake will hit the spot for every cookies and cream lover. My mother is a cookies and cream lover."

"Oh."

"Don't tell me you haven't tried cookies cake."

"None of my family like cookies cake, and neither does my ex. I'm not used to…this." She looked at the cake in the cart.

"Ex, huh?"

Elena froze. "What? Just because you don't have one, you think no one else does?"

Damon spin on his feet, twirling the cart round with him. "No. I have just been wondering how and why you ended up as a PA with a degree from Harvard, and now I know. You are running from an ex."

"N-no. I'm not?"

His lips twitched. "You don't sound so sure there, darling."

"I'm not running," Elena repeated, forcing her voice to be steady.

"So why are you here?"

"I needed a change of scenery."

"Right." Damon rang the item through the self-checkout. "But I don't believe you, princess."

"Will you stop calling me that?"

"Will you stop lying about why you are here?"

Elena inhaled slowly when he opened the trunk and put the shopping bag in. "I'm not lying."

"Mmm." He pushed the cart to the security guy, who wheeled it over to the cart shelter. Then he walked to her, slowly, and reached around her body to the car door. With his fingers curled around the door handle, he leaned his face towards her. "Then why," he whispered, "don't you look at me when you tell me?"

Elena averted her eyes to the side, saying nothing. Damon was standing so close to her, and he smelled good. Like, really good. Like coffee and cinnamon—warm and comforting. Nothing like the harsh cologne Liam used to wear, and definitely nothing like the whiskey and cigarette smoke he occasionally smelled like.

"Huh?" Damon prompted, his voice still a gentle breezing whisper. "That is what I thought."

"Leave it alone," Elena replied, finally bringing her eyes to meet his. They were burning into her, thrilling and scary, and it was all she could do to ignore the shiver that cascaded its way down her spine. "Please," she finished quieter.

"Never." He stepped forward. There was barely a breath of space between their bodies, and her heart was pounding double time, but she didn't know why, because this was wrong, he was wrong. "I will get it out of you, Elena Gilbert. I'm dying to know why a pretty little city girl like you is slumming it on a tour bus with a boy band. And, princess…" He ran his thumb along her jaw. "I will get it out of you, even if you are on your back beneath me when I do."

Elena swallowed the lump in her throat. "Still not happening."

"The telling or the sex?"

Defiantly, Elena stare at Damon, despite the quivering of her hands. "Neither."


	5. Chapter 5

The resemblance between Damon and Lillian Salvatore was unmistakable. Same dark brown, almost black hair, same high cheek bones, Elena thought. Lillian Salvatore was indeed a very beautiful woman. Stefan, on the other hand, took after his father Giuseppe in terms of looks and physical appearance. According to Caroline, the Salvatore brothers were born and raised in Mystic Falls. They only moved out of the town when they finished high school.

"You will have to forgive Damon," Lillian said. "Well, actually, you don't have to forgive him for acting like a jerk. But he has no intention of hurting anyone."

"I understand," Elena said.

They were sitting in the VIP suite of Mystic Falls Hotel. The suite located on the top floor of the hotel provided a spectacular view of the town at night. There was a small bar in the corner and dinner was a delightful meal with roast beef, pan-seared salmon, lamb racks, roasted vegetables, and salads.

"To be honest," Lillian said with a smile. "I'm pretty proud of my two boys. I could still remember Stefan following his brother around, playing guitars and singing at the house. I have never thought that they would achieve what they are doing now."

"They are pretty good in doing what they are doing," Elena said.

"But they hardly come home nowadays because they are so busy."

"Why don't you and Mr Salvatore live with them in Los Angeles?"

Lillian shook her head. "Giuseppe and I prefer Mystic Falls. We have lived all our lives here. We know everyone. It is so peaceful and comfortable here."

"I have only been here for a few days but I can see that this is a lovely town."

Damon perched on the arm of the sofa next to Elena. "You get the whole story of the Salvatore family yet?"

Elena jumped at his sudden arrival. "Mrs Salvatore is telling me about Mystic Falls."

Damon raised his brows before turning to look at his mother. "Aren't you telling my PA your son is an asshole?"

"Watch your mouth, Damon," Lillian said. "Can't you behave yourself?"

He shrugged. "I'm behaving myself."

"You can be a better man, son."

Damon held up his hands. "Okay, okay."

"Unbelievable." Elena laughed as she watched the interaction between Damon and Lillian.

Lillian stood up and walked towards the bar. "I need another drink."

"Hey!" Damon shouted, sitting up straight. "Where you going?"

"I'm getting another drink," Lillian said. "You behave yourself with Elena, okay?"

"Uh, where is my kiss?"

Lillian shook her head. "Damon, behave yourself!"

"I'm behaving myself," Damon protested. "I just want a kiss from you, birthday girl."

"Behave yourself." Lillian put two fingers to her eyes then pointed them at him. "I have got my eye on you, Damon Salvatore."

Elena buried her face in her hands at the horror in Damon's eyes as Caroline walked towards the bar. She had to laugh. She couldn't help it.

The biggest asshole of The S could be brought to his knees by his mum. Who would believe it?

This was priceless.

"What are you laughing at, princess?"

Elena stopped and glared at Damon. "Your mother told you to behave. You want me to tell your mum?"

"You wouldn't dare."

"You sure about that?"

Damon launched himself towards Elena and, with his hands on the back of the couch on either side of her head, leaned forward. Inches were separating their noses, and Elena wished like hell he would stop getting so close to her. There was this crazy warmth that radiated from his body, and she was not going to deny that her eyes were flicking to his tensed biceps.

So she was an arms girl. She couldn't help it.

"I'm sure," he breathed, his eyes hot on hers, begging her to look up at him.

Elena did. For some reason, she damn well did.

Bright and hinting at that blue colour she was coming to recognize, his eyes were intense, serious yet teasing, mischievous.

And she breathed in, slowly, because he shouldn't be affecting her. She didn't want him to know he was affecting her.

"You won't tell my mum because you are too nice. You are too quiet and shy, despite that crazy-ass sassy mouth of yours that pops up now and then."

Of their own accord, Elena's lips moved into a small smile. "How do you know my sassy mouth won't pop up and tell her for my shy self?"

"Because if it does, I will have to kiss it into silence." Damon leaned forward, just a little more. Enough that her inhale wasn't all that slow or quiet.

"How do you do it?" Elena whispered. "How do you go from woman-using rock star to an adoring son and then to…this?"

"What is…this?"

"I don't know. Gentle asshole?"

"I'm still your boss, you know. I should have had your ass for calling me an asshole last night."

"Why didn't you?"

"I was too busy staring at your ass as you walked away from me to remember." Damon smirked. "For what it is worth, you have a real nice ass."

"Thanks. I guess." Elena raised an eyebrow. "And back to my question?"

Damon smiled, his eyes sparkling, and dropped onto the sofa next to her. "I love my family, Elena. And my mother most of all. I used to follow her around when I was a kid. My father used to tell the others I had a crush on my mother."

"Seriously?" Elena turned to face him. "I don't believe you."

"I swear. She is the most wonderful woman I have ever met. She is like my best friend."

"But you are such a dick to everyone else."

"Me and my brother—we are like that. Do you have any siblings?" She kept quiet but he continued, "We are together all the time, especially when we are on tour. It grates on you. We got to bitch at each other or we go crazy. It is better to bitch playfully than have it gone too far, because that's ended up physical more than once."

Elena swallowed.

"But my mother? Dammit." Damon shook his head. "I love her. I would kill anyone who tried to cross her."

Elena looked at him. The darkness of his hair, the brightness of his eyes, the curve of his jaw. "But if you can love so much, why are you so hateful to the girls you sleep with?" He opened his mouth, but she sat up and interrupted him. "Oh, come on. I read the tabloids, you know? Your reputation isn't exactly a secret."

His lips pursed and he straightened. "Seriously? You want to know why?"

Elena nodded slowly. "It doesn't make sense in relation to this other person you are. I swear, you are giving me whiplash with your multiple personalities."

Damon laughed. "All right, Elena, darling, because it is you."

"Because I'm so special."

He winked. Leaning forward, his expression became stoic. "All the girls are interested in is my money and my fame. They want to be a notch on my bedpost, my arm candy, my spoiled bitch of a girlfriend."

"So why do you even take them home?"

Damon shrugged a shoulder. "I don't trust anyone, Elena. Only my family, Enzo and Alaric. Too many people have betrayed me for me to give that shit out like it is candy on Halloween." His eyes conveyed his meaning: he didn't trust her either.

That was fine with her too. She didn't particularly trust him.

"I don't blame you," Elena replied softly, looking away. "I don't trust anyone either. It is more hassle than it is worth."

Damon stood, his eyes still on hers, despite the fact that hers were staring at the advertisement on the TV. "Trust Caroline," he said, breaking the moment of silence. "She will never lead you wrong. She has messed up plenty, but she has also made all her mistakes right. She will be your best friend if you will let her."

Elena swallowed hard, and she met his eyes for a brief second. "I will try."

x x x

Damon packed the guitar into the case and carried it out to the bus. Another city done. Next stop: Atlanta, Georgia.

With any luck, he would find a chick to get Elena out of his system. He had to.

For real, this girl had been their assistant for six days and he was going crazy.

He could see her now, standing in the lobby of the hotel, a notepad and pen in her hands, laughing and smiling with everyone. Despite her initial shyness, she was fitting right in. Everyone seemed to love her.

She was gorgeous, she was quiet, and she was sweet

She was soft and gentle—even down to her laugh. Damon swore to God that when she laughed, the clouds parted, like something out of the Bible, and every giggle was accompanied by an angel singing.

Shame about the shadows in her eyes whenever he asked her why she was here. It was the ex—of that he was damn well sure. Elena clammed up when Damon asked about him. It was bugging him, because she was so out of place here.

She really was the upper-class girl he took her for the second he looked at her. She wasn't made for sleeping on a tour bus as they drove between cities. She wasn't a coffee-getter, a schedule-maker, and she sure as hell wasn't a girl-kicker-outer.

The disgust in her eyes when she did it made that point perfectly clear.

Next time, he would call Caroline.

But, hell, Elena was damn well doing all the craps Damon was throwing at her, and she was taking it all in her sexy little hip-swaying stride.

"Are you ready to go?"

Damon turned and look at Elena. She had her hair in a high ponytail and Damon thought she looked very fresh and enticing.

"Yep. Which one are you riding on?" He nodded back to the buses. "You going with Caroline?"

"Ah." Elena briefly shot a look over her shoulder. "Caroline said I should ride with you three. Something about getting to know you and getting familiar with your schedule." Her voice quivered when she said "getting to know you," and damn, it shouldn't turn him on, but it did.

He would give her a raise if it meant she would let hi, get to know her more.

And he would like to know her very, very well.

"All right." Damon pulled the door open and motioned for her to enter. "Ladies first."

Her eyes flicked to him suspiciously, and she slid her purse strap from her elbow to her hand to clasp it tightly. With her other hand, she grabbed the rail and made her way upstairs.

Damon dropped his eyes to her legs. Christ—those shorts shouldn't be legal around him. Or any other man.

"Ladies first," Enzo sniggered, "Because he can't stare at your ass if you are behind him!"

Damon punched his arm. "Shut up. You were looking, too."

"Hell yeah, I was. She has got a killer figure." Enzo darted past him and ran into the bus.

Damon followed him up and glared at him. "Back off, Enzo. She is not your next plaything."

"I didn't realize you had already claimed her."

"Wait, are we claiming Elena?" Alaric added, walking through from the bedroom. "You two should just back off."

Elena looked between the three of them. Her eyes were wide and shining, with the embarrassment causing her cheeks to burn red. "Um, no one is claiming me for anything. And I'm no one's plaything. If I want to play, I will play with myself, thanks."

Damon sat on the seat next to her, grinning. The image of her lying back, dark hair spread over pillows, head thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted…...She would be gorgeous.

"Wait!" Elena covered her cheeks with her hands. "That came out wrong. I mean—I don't—play with—oh God."

Damon fought his laughter and saw Enzo and Alaric doing the same. "You don't? Way to ruin a guy's day, Elena."

She stood and grabbed her purse, her cheeks still flaming. "I think I'm going to go with Caroline and Stefan."

"Sit down, darling. We are just teasing you. If you are going to work with us, you got to get used to it. We might be in our early thirties, but we have got the mind of sexually frustrated teenagers."

"Yeah," Enzo agreed. "Besides, if we take it too far, just tell us to go to hell."

"Um," she said softly. "I'm not sure."

"Hey." Damon grabbed her wrist and tugged her down next to him, then rested his hand on her back. "We are sorry—we really were just messing with you."

"I know," she replied, just as quietly.

"You fit with us so well it is easy to forget you just got here and don't really understand us yet," Alaric added. "Seriously, we get carried away pretty easily, so just tell us when it's too much."

"Okay." Elena swallowed. "I'm just going to go use the bathroom."

She clasped her purse tightly and practically ran down the bus. Damon watched her go, and damn, he felt a little bad. She was obviously uncomfortable as hell right now, and that was their fault.

She wasn't exactly comfortable before they started being…

"Damn," Alaric and Enzo whispered together.

"She is really sensitive," Damon said.

"No shit," they said, this time louder.

"You two shouldn't talk about that crappy claiming shit." Damon glared at them.

They just shrugged and pulled their phones from their pockets. A door opened and closed at the other end of the bus. Damon looked up, but when Elena didn't appear, he frowned. Leaving Enzo and Alaric doing whatever it was on their phones, Damon eased out from behind the table and walked down the bus. The engine rumbled to life and he grabbed the fridge to steady him as it pulled away from the hotel parking lot.

He darted through the rest of the bus before they turned corners to the bedroom. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer.

"Elena? You in there?"

"Yes. I just need a minute."

"Are you all right?"

She didn't reply. Dammit. Now he got to go in there, and she was probably crying.

Damon pushed down on the handle and cracked the door open an inch.

"Fear nothing," was the whisper he heard. Her whisper.

 _What? What did she say?_ Damon thought.

"Elena, I'm coming in."

"No!" she shrieked, but it was too late, because the door was open, and Damon could see her standing in front of the mirror. Her back was to it and her shirt was bunched up beneath her breasts.

His eyes fell to the mirror and the markings on her back. Yellow mixed with fading blue and purple—or at least he hoped it was fading.

Elena shoved her shirt down, covering the bruise.

"What the hell is that?"

"It is nothing," Elena rambled. "Just a bruise."

"Just a bruise? Damn it, Elena!" Damon shoved the door shut and crossed the room towards her. Elena held her hands out to stop him but he shoved them away and yanked her shirt up. The bruise covered most of the lower half of her back and disappeared below her waistband. "That is the worst 'just a bruise' I have ever seen. A blue mark on a kneecap is just a bruise. That is a nightmare."

"It doesn't matter!" Elena snapped, yanking the material from his hands and stepping away. She wrapped her arms around her waist and looked at her feet.

"Who did that to you?"

"No one!" she protested, her eyes landing on his, full of fear. "It was an accident."

Damon stared at her stonily, anger rumbling in his chest, and in return, Elena begged him with her gaze to stop.

He wouldn't. Nobody would get bruises like that from an accident unless it was almost fatal. "You fell down the stairs, right?"

"Maybe I did."

"Bullshit. Did your ex do that? Is that why you are running?"

"I said it was an accident!" Elena yelled, backing away from him. Damon stepped forward and she flinched, tears shining in her dark eyes.

Damon froze.

And a moment passed between them.

He didn't know what the moment was, he just knew it happened.

"That is one hell of a disrespectful accident." He cut through the silence.

"What would you know about respect?" Her voice was a whisper, so quiet Damon could barely hear it, yet it screamed at him. The words hurtled towards him, and when they hit him, they hit him hard.

"You are right. I am disrespectful to women," Damon admitted, "but I would never ever lay a finger on one."

"Congratulations. I will take you home and you can tell my stairs exactly why they can't get a girlfriend."

Damon's head shook of its own accord. Because there wasn't a thing he could say to make her change her story and tell him the truth.

And, really, it was none of his business. She could have the dirtiest past known to man—hell, his was so dirty you could bleach it and it would still be marked—but that didn't matter. What happened last week, before she arrived in Mystic Falls, was irrelevant. She wasn't my employee then. The only thing that was his business was that she was okay now, today.

Something that would be easier to swallow if she wasn't still looking at him with tear-filled eyes and trembling hands.

Damon grabbed the box of tissues from the shelf and pulled one from it. He threw the box on the sofa bed and walked towards Elena, tissue raised. Her chest rose and fell in quick succession but she didn't move away. She stood deathly still, apart from the heavy breathing and trembling, and he stopped in front of her.

Slowly, he raised the tissue to her cheeks and dabbed under her eyes. Elena looked at Damon the whole time, confusion mixing with the fear and anxiety. Her hand came up and took the tissue from him, and Damon stepped back.

"We have got a lot to go over before we get to Atlanta," Damon said, his voice harder than he meant. "Get your act together, darling."


	6. Chapter 6

Damon slammed the motel door on his way out and took the stairs down to the parking lot. He dug in his pocket for the keys to the car he rented as soon as they checked in at the hotel and ran his fingers through his hair.

That was the most unsatisfying sex Damon had had in a long time.

Ten minutes was all it took. Walked into a bar downtown, sat at the bar, and she came right on over. Fluttered her eyelashes, and I knew she was game.

Didn't even buy her a drink.

And all the damn sex had done was reinforced Elena's point that he had no idea how to truly respect a woman outside his family.

He did. He knew exactly what it was. He had plenty of it for his parents, his brother, Alaric, Enzo, Caroline and their team. He respected the hell out every single one of them.

Damon just didn't respect the girls who believed his dick was the way to his bank account—and his heart.

They didn't respect him, only what they believed he could give them. Someone needed to put out a PSA, because without respect, you didn't get a damn thing. Damon refused to give someone everything just because they wanted it. He would rather give everything to the girl who expected nothing. Wherever she was. Introduce her to him and he would give up the bullshit in a heartbeat.

Damon pulled into the hotel parking lot and killed the engine. Yeah, all that sex did was made him smell like a bar mixed with a brothel.

This was awesome.

Now he was disrespectful and a bastard.

And it didn't exactly help that he only came because he thought of Elena. Something that had, incidentally, reignited every ounce of sexual tension he was feeling earlier.

Disrespectful, a bastard, a time-waster.

What an ego boost.

Damon rolled his shoulders as he walked through the hotel lobby towards the elevator.

"Damon!"

He dropped his head back at the sound of Caroline's voice and stopped. Damn. He just wanted a shower and a beer in his room. "What?"

Her palm connected with his bicep. "What the hell did you do to her?"

"I didn't do a damn thing," Damon growled, turning on her. "I have never done a single thing to her. Why don't you ask her about what her ex did to her instead?"

"What?" Caroline drew her brows together. "What are you talking about?"

"We teased her around a little, and she took a couple minutes on the bus. When she didn't come back, I went after her. Found her in the bedroom, her shirt around her tits, looking in the mirror at a huge bruise on her back." His jaw clenched. "Fell down the stairs apparently."

Caroline's eyes widen. "You don't know that is a lie."

"I took a step towards her and she flinched like I had slapped her," Damon hissed. "Stairs don't make you afraid of people, Caroline. You are not that dumb."

Caroline shifted uncomfortably. "I can't just come out and ask her, Damon. It is not exactly wine and cake talk, you know?"

"I don't give a damn how you find out, Caroline. Just do it. If her obvious fear of men is going to affect her ability to do her job, then I need to know about it so we can make other arrangements. Got it?"

Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him, disbelief radiating from her. "Are you serious, Damon? She could have been abused, and you are worried about her ability to do her job?"

Damon stared at her stonily, and he was marginally aware of the stares and interest they were gathering from both the hotel staff and customers. "Yeah. She won't talk about the bruise, so I'm focusing on her job."

Caroline ran her hand down her face. "Asshole. Even for you, this is a whole other level." She turned and stepped away from him.

"Whatever. Just make sure you find out."

She threw him a hard look over her shoulder, her eyes radiating anger that filled the whole lobby. "You are the worst person on this planet earth, Damon Salvatore."

With that, she stormed away and disappeared into the restaurant.

Damon jabbed the elevator buttons.

What a nightmare!

x x x

Elena stared in the mirror. It had faded. In fact, it was almost gone. Sure, she froze her butt off lying in an ice-cold bath for an hour last night, and she was pretty sure she had a cold coming, but the bruise was better.

Damon walking in yesterday had ruined everything she had planned. She didn't want anyone to find out about her hellish past. She just wanted to come in, do her job, find herself. It seemed so simple before—but before, she didn't know Damon Salvatore.

Elena didn't expect him to push. She didn't expect The S to be so…immature, at times. Of course, if she didn't have Liam's voice whispering in the back of her mind so often, if she wasn't a victim-turned-survivor of both mental and physical abuse, she wouldn't have been so bothered by their words. She would have simply laughed and maybe said something snarky back in response.

Instead she clammed up, got scared, and ran.

And now her past wasn't so secret.

Damon knew. She was not stupid. She denied it until she was lacking in oxygen, but Damon knew. There wasn't a thing she could do about it either. She couldn't make him un-see the blemish on her skin. She couldn't make him forget that he ever walked in there or that she flinched whenever he raised his voice or moved towards her.

Elena sighed heavily and grabbed a dress from her case. She slipped it over her head and let it fall around her body. The material was light and easy, and she was thankful it was so hot here. Maybe she would sweat the cold out over the next week or so while they stayed in the South.

Her phone buzzed on the bed. Elena grabbed it and opened Caroline's text.

 _Stefan and I are going shopping. Want to come with us?_

It was shopping or sitting here in her hotel room feeling sorry for herself.

 _Sure,_ Elena typed back. _Leaving after breakfast?_

There was a knock at her door and it pushed open. "It is just me!" Caroline called.

Elena turned to her. She was smiling widely, dressed in a bright yellow sundress, her blond hair pulled into a high ponytail.

"Hey," Elena said. "I was just messaging you." She waved her phone.

"I know. I got it," she grinned sheepishly. "I actually just needed to talk to you quick."

"Oh, sure. What is up?"

She licked her lips. "Damon told me what happened in the bus yesterday."

Elena inhaled sharply. Damn him.

"Don't panic!" Caroline held her hands up with a reassuring smile. "I am not going to ask you for an autobiography or anything. I'm just going to say that if you want to talk to someone about it, I'm here. And if you wanted to tell me whether you were telling Damon the truth or not, well, that would help. I can tell the guys to lay off you. They are not great with boundaries."

"You think?" Elena's lips twitched weakly. She clasped her hands in front of her and looked away. Telling Caroline would help. She knew this. But it was hard. It was so ingrained in her that if she told someone, it would be worse next time. That phrase was Liam's mantra as much as she was his plaything.

Except now there wasn't a next time.

Now Elena feared nothing.

"I…might have been creative with the truth," Elena admitted quietly. "I just…it doesn't matter anymore. It is in the past."

"Okay. Now it makes total sense why you disappeared in the middle of the night." Caroline smiled gently. "Is there any chance your ex might find you?"

Elena never thought—oh God.

"Elena, Elena!" Caroline walked to her and rested her hand on Elena's biceps. "Don't panic, remember? It is okay. I'm not asking to scare you. If there is a chance he might come after you, I need a picture of him or something."

"Why?" Elena whispered.

"So security can put him on his ass before he gets within a hundred feet of you." Caroline smiled. "They are there for a reason. Let them protect you, okay? You are part of the team, and nothing will happen to you while you are with us. All right?"

Elena nodded, letting out a breath. "I would be surprised if he doesn't try and find me. There is a slim chance I was supposed to get married a few days ago." Elena winced.

Caroline laughed. "I'm sorry. But, damn, girl. That is how you run away."

Elena's lips curved. "I guess it is. I don't have a photo of him—they are all on my old phone. Just tell security to search for Liam Davis of Davis Enterprises. He is all over the Internet."

"All right. I will send the security a message today." Caroline winked and stepped back. "Come on. Let's eat bacon and we will go shopping."

Damon shuffled forward and sat down next to Caroline. He looked up at Stefan and mumbled something, making him laugh. Damon, though, stayed stone-faced, even as he ate his breakfast this morning.

It had been tense between Damon and Elena since the moment he got out of his car in the parking lot and they saw each other. Honestly, if Elena knew he was coming, she would have stayed at the hotel or done something else…alone.

She believed being alone would be preferable to exchanging tiny, awkward glances with him. Hell, their "not-talking" situation was affecting everyone. Caroline kept squeezing her arm in support, and all the guys kept offering her small smiles. Elena guessed they knew Damon's temper better than she did, but she didn't have to be his best friend to see he was mad. Really, really mad.

There was also the fact that Elena knew Enzo and Alaric heard their conversation. They heard Damon's accusations and her replies. Her blatant lies.

That everyone here, except maybe Stefan knew exactly what happened to her before she got here.

Elena just hoped they thought that was the only time it happened and they would never find out it had been her life for two years.

"Don't let him get you down," Alaric murmured in her ear from behind her. "He will get over himself soon enough."

"I'm not." It was kind of the truth. "Honestly, I'm glad. Maybe now he will leave me alone and we can have a decent working relationship."

Alaric chuckled and squeezed her shoulder. "Oh, Elena. He won't leave you alone until you tell him the truth."

"I was hoping you didn't hear."

"You all were yelling pretty loud. We would have to take a different bus to make sure we didn't."

"I'm sorry," Elena said softly. "I didn't mean to make it awkward for anyone."

Enzo laughed, coming up on her other side when Caroline joined Alaric, Stefan and Damon. "Our lives are awkward, Elena. We breathe awkward. You are adding some much needed brightness to it."

Elena smiled at him. "Thank you for saying that."

"Come on," Enzo nudged her elbow with his. "Let's have a look around."

They had stopped by a famous local store which sold very old books. The shop was furnished like an old-world private library. There were small reading lamps with green glass shades, overstuffed arm chairs and polished wooden tables. Ranks of leather bound volumes filled the floor-to-ceiling shelves. It didn't take an expert to realise at once that most, if not all, of the books were very old and extremely valuable.

Elena followed Enzo over to everyone and paused when the only space to sit was next to Damon. Still, she swallowed and lowered herself to the chair. Damon glanced at her as she did, his eyes blazing. It lasted only a second before he turned away.

"Elena, do you like old books?" Stefan asked.

"I have never seen anything like this outside of a museum," Elena offered him a smile.

"This store is owned by the mayor," Caroline explained. "The mayor is a good friend of the Salvatore family."

Stefan grinned and sat back. "I like this place, not only because of the books but because they serve great coffee."

Alaric smiled approvingly. "You should try the coffee, Elena."

"There are some great books here about music," Enzo said. "I can't wait to see them."

"I prefer my books straight off the bestseller lists," Damon said, leaning back on the chair. "She might not share your interest, guys. Don't waste your time."

Caroline pursed her lips, and Alaric looked like he was going to murder Damon.

"Yeah," Stefan agreed. "But this place is still a great place to visit even though you might not be interested in ancient books. Keep that in mind."

"You are quite right. But everyone's mutual passion is different."

Enzo poked Damon's side. "Just because you have got your manhood all in a twist doesn't mean you have got to annoy everyone else."

Elena skirted back a little. Here came the awkwardness.

"Nothing is wrong with me, Enzo," Damon replied as he stood up from his chair. He put back his sunglasses and turned away from them, his biceps tensed.

Elena watched Damon as he walked away. He tucked his hands back in his pockets, slouching his shoulders, and disappeared around the corner. Elena stared at the empty space where he just was, a small ball of guilt settling in her stomach. Guilt for him—but guilt because the sharp angle of his tightened jaw was burned into her brain, and so was the blaze of his eyes as he fought back his obvious anger. Guilt because she shouldn't be thinking about how freaking attractive he was, even when he was annoyed.

And when Elena pulled her attention back to the row of books, everyone was looking at her, but only Caroline looked at her with the sympathy she didn't think she deserved.

x x x

The Moscato here was good. Sweet and crisp and cold, it was the perfect way to unwind, and quickly becoming Elena's new favourite pastime. She almost forgot how fun it was to sit back in a bar with a friend and just sip cold, fruity wine.

"Well, I don't think I would ever want take up another job dealing with a group of men." Caroline laughed. "Holy shit. How did I ever do this alone?"

Elena smiled. "Because you had to?"

"That will be it." She laughed again. "How are you feeling?"

Elena looked into her glass and ran her finger across the base, wiping up the condensed drops. "I'm all right."

"You don't look it."

Elena shrugged. "I guess I just feel kind of bad that Damon's bad mood is because of me and now it is affecting everyone."

It was true. Being honest with him really wouldn't have hurt anyone. Why was it so hard to admit that she had a crappy relationship that she ran from? Why wouldn't the words fall from her mouth?

Even to Caroline, she had to add in "maybes" and "might haves" like they softened the blow.

"It isn't your fault, you know?" Caroline prompted. "He is not happy because he isn't getting his own way. He is a big old baby, Damon is. He can't get inside your pants because you work for him, and now you won't tell him stuff he wants to know."

"You didn't tell him?" Elena snapped her eyes up.

Caroline shook her head. "Elena, no. It isn't my place to tell him. I told Stefan your ex was an asshole and you think he is stalking you. He didn't ask me questions." She shrugged a shoulder.

"He probably is stalking me," Elena muttered. "It wouldn't surprise me if he was halfway to Atlanta by now."

"Well, if he is, and he finds you, he is going to have a tough time getting anywhere near you."

"I hope you are right." Elena swallowed and looked down again.

She was petrified of that. Of Liam showing up. These people, they were all so nice. They had taken her without asking any questions—if you didn't count Damon—and they had really made her felt like she belonged here. And Caroline, well, Elena thought she was glad to have some female company, but even then, Elena felt like they had the start of a good friendship. Which wasn't something she had had in a long time, given that she rarely saw the people she called her friends, and that, when she did, it was never particularly enjoyable.

It really would be perfect without the eldest Salvatore brother.

Caroline started talking about something to do with the guys' schedule tomorrow, something about gym time and making sure they would stop for lunch. The tablet was open to the notes section, but all Elena had written was a few words about breakfast and gym time, because she was distracted. Dammit. She never should have thought about Damon.

Now her mind was consumed with him—tall, strong body, certain stride, cocky smirk, bright eyes, 'bad-boy' smile. And his attitude. His asshole, the-world-owes-me attitude and his unnecessary annoyance at something he knew nothing about. Because he didn't, and Elena didn't care if he was her boss or the king of Spain, her past was not his problem. It was hers.

Elena rolled her shoulder and nodded her head at Caroline as her distraction level rocketed through the roof. It was almost as if a thousand bugs were crawling over her skin.

She looked up and, like something out of a corny romance movie, met blue eyes across the bar. But there were no butterflies, no happy sigh of the heart. There was anger and annoyance glaring at her, and she felt it, too.

Frustration swirled in her stomach, because he was so mad with her, and he had no right to be, not really. Elena could have told him everything, but she was not under any obligation to do so. Like Caroline said, Damon was being a big baby and throwing a tantrum close to a child earlier today.

"Elena?"

"Hold that thought," Elena told Caroline, taking a big swig from her glass and getting up.

"What?" Caroline spin on her stool. "Oh. Ohhh!"

Damon turned and stormed away, his muscles flexing with his every step, and Elena followed him. This had to end now, because their relationship wasn't supposed to be personal, but he was making it that way.

He shoved open the door that led to the private parking lot, and Elena caught it just before it swung shut again.

"Don't even think about getting in that car!"

Damon stopped and, in the waning light, turned to her over his shoulder. "Last time I checked, you didn't give the orders around here."

"And last I checked, a child was the one with tantrum rights, not a thirty-three-year-old man."

Damon spin and his eyes crashed into hers. "Is your sassy side out to play tonight, darling? Scared little Elena gone back into hiding?"

His words jolted Elena, but she swallowed the hit. "Yeah, the sassy side seems to come out around you if you hadn't noticed. You obviously bring out the worst in me."

"Shame. It is pretty hot." Damon folded his arms over his chest. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, sorry, am I delaying your next meaningless sex date?"

"Yeah, actually, you are."

"I will make it quick, then."

"Please do."

Elena froze. The words were on the tip of her tongue, ready to fall, but they wouldn't jump. Why wouldn't they come out? This wasn't the plan. No. She was not afraid. Damon wouldn't hurt her. No one would.

"Well?"

Elena ran her fingers through her hair.

"Informative." Damon turned and unlocked his car. He opened the door, and then…

"You were right!" Elena yelled, running her hands through to the ends of her hair. "Yesterday. On the bus. What you said. You were right." Damon said nothing, and she swallowed. She stepped sideways, closer to the tour bus, and clenched her fists at her sides. "You don't have a right to know, but I have to tell you because you are stomping around like your mum didn't give you any candy. You are being awful over something that isn't yours to be awful over."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"Because it isn't your business."

Damon slammed the car door shut and hit her with his red-hot gaze. "Yeah. It is my business, Elena. It is every bit my business because you are."

"I am not my past!" Elena's voices hitched at the end as her words gained volume. "Do you know how hard it is to be honest? I can't even say the damn words because I'm so afraid something bad will happen. Do you have any idea what it is like to live in fear every single day?"

"No. I don't have a damn clue, but you are not alone here. There are people here that can protect you from him!"

"Caroline already did it!" Elena wrapped her arms around herself. "Security knows who he is."

Damon's jaw tightened. "You should have told me. It is my job to keep you safe, not Caroline's."

Elena laughed in disbelief. "How is it your job? Because you would have no one to annoy if he finally got me? Because I'm your employee?"

"Because I want to!" He approached her, each footstep echoing around the empty parking lot.

Elena backed up against the bus, flattening her hands on either side of her. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, and she could feel so many things swirling around her body. Fear. Anger. Adrenaline. A thrill. They all mixed and mingled into an indecipherable feeling that thrummed through her veins at warp speed.

"It is my damn job to keep you safe." Damon flattened his hands above hers and leaned down. He was not touching her, but her skin was tingling all over. "I told you yesterday I had never set a finger on a woman. I meant it. I will also never let anyone else do it either."

"Well, I'm glad we cleared that up," Elena snapped, raising her eyes to his.

"Hardly, but let's move on, shall we? Make our way down a list? Let's clear up how you are driving me insane," Damon growled, his biceps tightening on either side of her.

"Excuse me?"

"I went out earlier to pick up some chick and took out my frustration. Guess what? I came back here, still frustrated, and I got me a pair of blue balls for my trouble. Couldn't pick up a single chick because some hot-and-cold, dark-haired PA and her pain was consuming me like some damn disease."

"I'm sorry my life is such a cockblock to you."

"Not your life, darling." Damon dropped his eyes to her mouth, and Elena felt them tracing the shape of her lips. It made her draw in a sharp breath. "You. Just you. Doesn't matter who I look at or think would look good in my bed, because they don't have your hair, your eyes, your smile, your mouth. Doesn't matter, because they aren't you, Elena."

"Is that how you pick up girls?"

"You are real feisty around me. You know that, right?" He leaned in further and his breath billowed across her mouth, heating her lips, his eyes searching hers. "You want to know why you are the biggest pain in the ass I will ever have?"

Elena pursed her lips. "I'm sure you are going to tell me, regardless."

"Damn right I am." His voice was low, husky, rough, and against Elena's wishes, her body shuddered. "Because I can't stop seeing you yesterday, crying, scared. Scared. Of me, when I am not him. When I would never touch you that way. I can't stop seeing what I saw and wondering how the hell someone could hurt the sweetest girl I have ever met in my life. I can't stop being mad that someone did hurt you, Elena." He dropped his hand to cup the side of her head and stroke his thumb across her cheek.

The soft touch sent a thousand lightning bolts across her skin.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that the worthless piece of shit who did this to you could have walked past you in Mystic Falls and I wouldn't have known, or that he is on his way here right now. And worst?" Damon paused, his fingers tightening slightly on the side of her head. "I couldn't stop thinking about how I couldn't protect you because you refused to tell me the truth. And how I have to protect you because, yeah, I want to protect you." Damon brought his face close to hers.

So close Elena couldn't tell where her breath stopped and his started.

So close she was shivering in the evening heat.

So close her body was buzzing.

So close she could feel each dip and bump of his muscled body, even though his hand was the only part touching her.

"Elena, I got to protect you because no other girl has ever bothered me as much as you do. Being around you drives me nuts and not being around you drives me nuts."

"Well, thank—"

His lips—they were on hers. Hot, soft, smooth. They tasted like coffee and cinnamon, and he smelled that way, too. His hand fell to her side and it burnt her through her dress. Every little touch, whether it was his lips working on hers or his nose brushing hers or his fingers flexing against her skin, was more intense than Elena could ever have imagined.

Her hands crept up his body to his neck. She wrapped her arms around him, falling into his kiss, letting Damon prove whatever point he was trying to prove.

It should be wrong. She should be running screaming. But she couldn't move.

It wasn't wrong.

It felt a little right.

Like every word they had exchanged since they first saw each other had been building to this.

Like today, all day, every painful glance, had been foreplay for this kiss.

His hand slid down to her thigh and up, pulling her dress up with it, and Elena gasped, because, whoa. But it was nice. His touch was like a gentle spring breeze ghosting over her skin, until his hand rounded to her back.

Her bruise.

"Damon," Elena whispered, every one of her muscles freezing.

His fingertips brushed the edge of the bruise. "Say it again. My name."

"Move your hand." Every word quivered. "Please."

Elena squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her arms. No—he couldn't touch that. He couldn't touch where he did.

"Elena." He cupped her face. "Elena. Darling, I'm sorry. I didn't…"

But she remembered. The shove into the wall because she didn't get a chance to pick up her wedding dress. The punch to her back, then the push against the table.

"Elena…Elena!"

Elena opened her eyes and looked up, shaking. All over. Everywhere.

Damon stared at her, every bit of anger gone. "Elena?"

She pushed at his chest, because he needed to let go.

He didn't.

Damon wrapped his arms around her.

Softly but strongly, wrapping her in his embrace.

He held her until she stopped fighting him.

Then he held her some more.

And he whispered, "You are safe with me, Elena. Always."


	7. Chapter 7

Damn. Damn. Damn.

His name.

His kiss.

Her tears.

Her fear.

Damon rested his elbows on the dining table and ran his fingers through his hair. He wasn't supposed to kiss Elena last night. He had wanted to teach her a lesson—damn, but he wasn't going to. He was going to pull his big-boy boxers on, unravel his cock, and get on with it. Maybe he would jack off once or twice, then be such an asshole she would quit and leave.

Now it didn't happen. That sassy, attitude-filled act Elena put on was just that—an act. It was bullshit, a total performance so no one saw the scared-as-shit girl inside. So no one would get close enough to look into her eyes and see the pain there.

Elena wasn't broken, though. She was strong and resilient, despite the odd switches to shyness. She was like a knotted ball of his mother's yarn waiting to be untied and unravelled, ready to spin into something beautiful.

Except she was already. Beautiful. Her smile, her eyes, her laugh—it was all so beautiful it pissed Damon off. She and her goddamn innocent beauty were messing with him so bad, and she had no idea.

He wanted to protect her. He wanted to curl his arm around her, hold her against his body, and keep her safe from something as small as a goddamn bee sting. She was so…small. She was so delicate and fragile that if he flicked her, she would crumble.

Elena was nothing like what Damon liked.

She was not self-confident or flirty or extroverted. She didn't flaunt her tits with every shirt, and her skirts and shorts always covered some thigh. She didn't step in front of him and see dollar signs or how she could bag him.

She stood in front of him and told him to go to hell in the politest damn way Damon had ever heard.

Elena intrigued him. She astounded him. She winded him tighter than a nun's vagina.

And now she was walking into the room, her head down. She tucked some hair behind her ear and slides into the seat next to Stefan.

Damon stared at her. Like he was begging her gorgeous face to look at him. He was. He wanted her to look up at him and showed him that damn sadness wasn't in her eyes anymore.

He wanted her to look at him so he could make sure her eyes weren't ghosted with fear anymore.

But…she didn't. Damon could tell from her posture that her hands were in her lap, and the shifting of her shoulders told him she was fidgeting. Her hair fell on one side of her face, the side he was looking at, like she was leaving it there deliberately to obscure his view of her.

Obscured or not, Damon was still looking.

Enzo nudged his side. "You two still fighting?"

"Nope," Damon replied, not taking his eyes from Elena. "Well, I am not. You will have to ask her if she is still ignoring me."

"Look like she is," Enzo chuckled. "The hair curtain, bro? Ouch."

Damon cut his eyes to Enzo. He raised his eyebrows and returned to his breakfast, and Damon took a long drink of juice.

The door slammed. Everyone turned and saw Caroline strode into the room. Damon turned his attention back to Elena.

Caroline turned towards Damon, a rolled-up stack of papers in her hand, and she stepped forward and whacked him on the head with it.

"What the hell!" Damon scrambled out of his chair and away from her. "What the hell was that for, you crazy bitch?"

"You!" Caroline growled, advancing on him. She smacked the other side of his head with the paper roll, and Damon ducked away from her. "You absolute dumbass, Damon Salvatore! You complete and utter idiot!"

"Damn it! What did I do now?"

"Oh, it isn't what you did. It is what you allowed to happen because you can't keep your snake in its cage!"

Damon held his hands up. "Caroline, I have no idea what you are talking about."

Caroline unrolled the paper sheets and showed him the printed side. It was a memo from Wes about a tip-off he had had. Damon stepped forward to take them from her.

"A sex tape, Damon! Sweet Jesus! After the hooker thing, you would think you would watch your damn back!"

"You what?" Alaric and Enzo yelled, standing at Damon's sides.

Damon didn't even have the energy to be mad at them for their judgement.

Caroline was right.

Some girl he had sex in Mystic Falls apparently had it on tape, and she was threatening to release it.

Adrenaline was pounding through Damon's veins—and not the good type. It was burning, searing every part of me. Damn it. He was no reality star. He didn't need some sex tape to make it big. He already did that. He needed to keep it that way.

This wouldn't help.

Stefan stared at him from across the room, shocked. "This for real?"

"Apparently." Damon threw the paper on the table. His fingers scrubbed at his scalp relentlessly.

"How could you be so stupid?" Stefan stormed across the room and stopped right in front of Damon, squaring up to him. "Again, Damon? Really? Are you fifteen? Do you have a goddamn brain cell in your brain or is it full of air?"

"Shut up." Damon's jaw tensed.

"You know what? You are trying so damn hard to mess everything up, brother."

"You think I like this, huh? You think I like these chicks coming out with this stuff?"

"Obviously you do."

"You want me to sit them down with an NDA before I ask them to pull off their panties? That it?"

"Yeah!" Stefan yelled. "Because we should be more important than getting your rocks off! We should matter more than those easy girls you drag back to your hotel room, because we are a team, Damon! We are the ones who got here, and we did it together!"

"What are you saying, little brother? If I want to go down I'm doing it alone, huh?"

"That is exactly it!"

"Enough!" Elena's voice cracked and she slipped in between them. "Stop. Now. Please." The last word was quieter, but it seemed louder than every yell they just gave.

"Elena," Stefan warned, "this is between us."

"No. It isn't. It affects everyone. You, Damon, Alaric, Enzo, Caroline. Hell, even me. Everyone, Stefan. And yelling at each other isn't going to make it better. It will just make it worse."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you won't get through this alone," she said softly. "The only way you are all coming out of this is if you stick together."

"She is right," Caroline agreed, stepping up and taking Stefan's hand.

"Yelling at each other won't fix this. Calling your manager and your lawyers will," Elena continued. She swallowed and stepped to the side. To the table to be precise. She collected the papers and sat down, flicking through each one.

"What is she doing?" Alaric asked.

"I have done a few summer internships at law firms. Learned enough," Elena replied, reading.

"And she went to Harvard," Damon added.

Enzo shook his head and looked at her. "Harvard? What are you doing here?"

"Saving your buddy's behind, apparently." Elena looked at Damon for the first time today. "There is no proof here. If she really, really had one and she wanted to exploit you for it, she would post an image that would put you in a compromising position, or she would post the whole video. It is a stunt for fifteen minutes of fame."

Stefan relaxed. The others did, too.

"So what do we do?"

Elena rolled her eyes. "I just told you. Call Wes and your lawyers. They can enforce a gag order and possibly a defamation of character, depending on what she has actually said. The media will have been careful not to post any quotes that could damage your image, but they will have the full transcripts of the conversations." She came to Damon and slapped the papers on his chest. "Get them. It will cost you, but it will help. Somewhere she will have said something incriminating. And in the unlikely event that the video exists and she posts it, you can sue her for damages."

Damon stared at her. They all did. In the space of one minute she had taken them from angry to calm, from flailing to planned.

"You, Elena," Damon murmured. "Are a gem."

Elena raised her eyebrows. "And if I'm going to have to give you all legal advice regularly, I need a pay raise."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away from Damon.

"Wait," Damon called after her. "You going to get Wes on the phone or what?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him, then pulled something out of her pocket. She turned, clicked on the phone, then threw it to him. "I'm sure you can tap the little green button to call him."

She turned again, and this time she walked right through the door.

"This is fantastic," Enzo laughed, pushing off the wall and dropping back onto his seat.

"Really?" Caroline wrinkled her nose. "Bacon? After all that?"

"Shut up, idiots," Damon said as Wes answered. "Oh, not you," he said into the phone. "The guys."

"Right. You want to explain to me what the hell is going on there?"

Damon closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and explained the situation. From beginning to end. For the next ten minutes, he listened to his company manager ripped him a new asshole. His nether regions would never be the same after this conversation.

"I want your ass in rehab for sex addiction."

"Are you kidding me?" Damon exploded. "Rehab?"

"Damn right I am, Damon. This is getting out of hand. I'm all for a bit of a scandal—it is awesome marketing. But a sex tape? A year after the prostitute story?"

"I didn't pay her!"

"The world doesn't know. You got to sort yourself out now."

"I'm not doing rehab, Wes. That is a dumbass idea. We are in the middle of the tour!"

"Then I don't want to see you in the headlines, in the tabloids, front pages, trending, whatever, until after it. And if I do, I want it to be because you killed a performance. If I see your face on there for anything but, I'm hauling you into rehab and cancelling the tour quicker than you can make up a damn excuse. Are we clear?"

Damon gritted his teeth together. "Yes, sir. We are clear."

"Good. I talked to your lawyers. They are going to call."

"Got it."

Wes hung up, and he dropped the phone onto the table.

"He wants to send you to rehab?" Caroline whispered.

Damon shrugged and dropped onto a chair. "I got to behave myself."

"What are you going to do?" Enzo asked.

Damon took a deep breath and shook his head. He didn't have a damn clue what to do about this dumb plot twist in the craziness of his life, much less his manager's demands, but he knew exactly what he had to do to try and behave.

He had got to give in to temptation. He got to stay close to Elena—tried to unravel her past without giving up what was left of his own secrets.

Failing that, it was time to get a PornHub subscription.

x x x

Damon's fingers strummed over the guitar slowly, and he leaned into it, feeling the relaxing hum of the music flooded through him. It was the only thing in this world that could calm him, and given that his ass had been chewed out more times than a dog chewed a bone, calming was the exact thing he needed.

He didn't even know what he was playing. Just…notes. Random notes that had no sense or rhythm or pattern. It was just him and the music, each chord vibrating off the walls of his suite.

Damon paused for a moment to sip his water, then he readjusted his position on the sofa and went straight back to it. This time he leaned back into the plush cushions and closed his eyes. And he fell—into the music. He fell down and down and down until he was lost in the motion of his fingers against the strings and the pounding of his heart.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Damon looked up, and at another, quieter, knock, he set the guitar down on the floor and walked to the door. It opened to reveal Elena, holding her purse to her stomach, her brown doe eyes traveling up his chest to meet his gaze. "Can I come in?" she asked, somewhat hesitantly.

"Stupid question." Damon stepped to the side so she could pass.

Elena stood awkwardly in the room, her eyes traveling through it, examining everything. Eventually they fell to his guitar and she paused. "Oh. Were you practicing? I can come back later."

"No—just messing. What's up?" Damon dropped onto the sofa and eyed her.

Her long brown hair was twisted into a braid that hung over her shoulder, and her dress hung loosely, stopping at mid-thigh.

"I spoke to your lawyers," Elena said quietly. "They are going to try and see if they can silence her and forbid her from releasing the video, but they are not hopeful. Now that it is out there—and being clamoured for by your fans, I might add, check Twitter—she may release it for financial gain. And if you approach her with money, it may seem as if you are bribing or blackmailing her, which will get you in trouble."

"I thought you said it didn't exist."

Elena chewed on the inside of her cheek. "There is evidence to the contrary."

Damn.

"Sit." Damon moved the guitar to the side and motioned for her to sit down.

She did, slowly.

"So what do I do?"

"Nothing," Elena sighed. "There is nothing you can do, Damon. Not until you hear from your lawyers. They are already offering a significant amount of money to the media outlet to release the full interview transcript to them."

 _Damon. She said my name again,_ he thought. "I love it when you say my name," Damon murmured, his eyes set on hers.

Elena blinked. "What?"

"Damon. You said it last night, too. And just then. I just love it."

She blinked again, but this time her eyelashes fluttered in quick succession. "We are not here to discuss what I'm calling you."

"Darling, you could call me Dickhead if you wanted, and it would probably still be hot."

"Are you serious? I'm here to discuss your legal issues, and you are more concerned about what I'm calling you?"

"You just told me I can't do anything about it. Why can't I think about how hot it is when you finally say my name instead?"

"Because. It is unprofessional," she managed, a slight stutter on her words.

"Yeah?" Damon leaned forward. "Was it unprofessional when your tongue was in my mouth last night?"

"Yes! And it was wrong!" Elena slid across the sofa and gripped the arm. Damon slid after her, and her grip tightened, and she really did stutter.

His arm went around her waist easily. Her breasts were against his chest, her breath tickling his neck.

"Damon, I don't…." she drew in a deep breath, and her fingers brushed against his forearm.

"You don't what, darling?" Damon sank his fingers into her hair.

"Think you should…I should…we should…um." She paused. "Do this. It is not right."

Damon laughed low, because nothing had ever felt as right as kissing her, and he touched his lips to hers. A sharp squeak buzzed through their connection, and he tugged lightly on her bottom lip with his teeth. God, she tasted sweet, like candy and Moscato wine, like summer breaking through a fall day.

Elena grabbed his bare sides and he leaned into her more, pushing her back onto the sofa. She went with him, her grip on him tightening. Their bodies fell flush together, and as Damon kissed her deeper, swiping his tongue against her bottom lip, she eased her hands around to his back.

Her hands were soft and so warm, each touch was a burning trail across his skin, one he felt tingling everywhere, because, damn, damn, damn.

Too many girls, kisses, touches. None like this.

No softness beneath him, no hot fingertips against him, no deliciously sweet lips against his.

No Elena.

"Wrong," Elena breathed.

"You afraid?" Damon whispered.

She inhaled sharply, but she shook her head. "No."

"Then it isn't wrong, Elena." His mouth descended on hers once again, and he swept his lips across hers. Her body was responding, slightly arching into him, but it was her mouth, her kiss, that consumed him.

Her tongue meeting and battling his sent him into another dimension, some ten million light years above them. Consuming him, she drove him crazy yet again.

Knock, knock. "Hello? Damon?"

"Caroline," Elena breathed. "Oh hell. Off." She shoved at Damon, then rolled off the sofa. She ran into his room and the bathroom door shut behind her.

Damon closed his eyes, still leaning over, and ran his fingers through his hair. Two kisses and they had been interrupted both times by something.

"What?" he snapped, sitting back.

Caroline slid her key card and opened his door. "Did you see Elena tonight?"

"Yep. She is in the bathroom. She spoke to our lawyers."

Caroline relaxed. "Oh, good. Why didn't she call all of us?"

"Because it is his crap to handle." Elena stopped in the doorway, her hair smooth and her lips so glossed that there was no indication they were kissing just seconds ago. "It is legal stuff. I had to talk to him first."

"Of course." Caroline looked between them. "You two were going to tell us, right?"

"Obviously." Damon rested his elbows on his knees. "Once we had spoken about it."

Caroline's eyes cut between them again. "Damon…..."

"We talked," Elena cut in. "That's it. I was just using his bathroom before I came down to meet you."

"You were supposed to meet me twenty minutes ago."

"She talks a lot." Damon leaned back against the sofa and grabbed his guitar.

"Or, rather, you argue a lot," Elena retorted, grabbing her purse. She looked at him. "I will meet you all after breakfast tomorrow, and we will go over your schedule for the week. I know you have to be in the gym at nine a.m., so please don't be late. If I hear anything from Wes or your lawyers I will let you know."

There was no backward glance as she swept past Caroline and disappeared.

Caroline stopped, though, and she hovered two fingers in front of her eyes then pointed them at Damon. "I'm watching you," she mouthed, repeating the hand movement.

Damon stared at her flatly until she closed the door. He bet she was.

Shame she would never see a damn thing.

x x x

Elena rubbed her hands over her face, ignoring the guilty twinges in her lower stomach. They popped up the second Caroline smacked Damon on the head yesterday and explained everything.

Extra media attention on The S was the worst thing that could happen. Even if the #DamonSexTape trend on Twitter told a different story—and wow, were these girls so obsessed they would watch him have sex with some girl?

Elena knew this was a risk, taking this job. She wasn't, and was not, naive to the fact that she was very much in the public eye. She was not so stupid as to think she wouldn't get snapped on camera at least once or twice, but it didn't matter, because petty celebrity matters were far beneath her family and the Davis. Even her friends rarely checked the tabloids.

Hell, she only did it on her phone when she went to the toilet, then she had to clear her browser history.

No, this job was the safest risk she could have taken. Not least because she was constantly surrounded by big, strong-as-hell men nearly sixteen hours a day.

Sometimes the safest place was the most obvious. Hiding in plain sight.

Elena shook her head to clear the crazy thoughts. She didn't have time to lament the past or the danger the media attention could put her in. She was safe here. She knew that. She was safe.

 _Fear nothing. You are only afraid of the things you let scare you,_ Elena reminded herself.

Elena grabbed her purse and headed towards the elevator. With Caroline out, she was left alone to manage the guys by herself for the first time. She had been here nine days, and while she couldn't deny she was nervous, she was anxious to prove herself, too. Mostly to herself. That she could do this. She could do something she wasn't forced into, and she could be around men without freaking the hell out.

Then again, Elena thought the fact she had ended up making out with Damon twice in as many days proved the latter point.

God. No. She was not thinking about kissing him. She was not thinking of the warmth of his hands on her skin or the soft pressure of his lips on hers. Nope. Nope.

She was doing a job, dammit. And she was going to stick to it.

No kissing or being attracted to the boss.

Simple.

Elena ran her fingers through her hair and dug the tablet from her purse as she walked down the hall to the gym. She needed to clean this thing out. Or maybe not. She kind of liked having random stuff like three pens, a mini-notebook, two ChapSticks, and a half-eaten Hershey's bar in the bottom of it. Because God forbid she did that back home.

It was the little acts of rebellion that made her feel strong.

She hummed Ariana Grande's song "Break Free" to herself. Such a guilty-pleasure song, and she was indulging in all the guilty pleasures right now. One bar of chocolate too much, one more glass of wine…kissing a handsome, sexy rock star.

Yup. So much for not thinking about Damon.

It was not even the kiss. It was how Damon held her when she panicked. The words he whispered into her ear. _You are safe with me, Elena. Always._

And called her crazy, but Elena believed him.

Elena bumped the gym door open with her butt, still humming to herself, and swiped across the tablet's screen. Looking up, she saw Alaric running on a treadmill, Enzo on the bench press with Stefan spotting him, and Damon… Oh Lord. Damon.

He was sitting on the weight machine, performing chest fly after chest fly. His body was tensed, his biceps bulging, and Elena swallowed at the sight of him shirtless.

Sweat dripped down his body, and his nostrils flared with every fly he completed. His eyes were down, and she couldn't help the way hers ogled him unashamedly. Elena wished she could make them look away, but she couldn't. Because, holy muscles. That was it.

Just muscle.

The absolute epitome of the bad boy.

"Damn it!" Enzo groaned, lifting the weight up.

"Two more!" Stefan encouraged him. "Do it, you pussy!"

"Shut up!" Enzo roared back, lifting it again.

"One more!"

"Go to hell!"

Her lips twitched up to one side.

"Done!"

"I'm going to break your legs, you little asshole," Enzo hissed, wiping his hands down his face, completely spent. "Adding lifts to that. Ten more than usual!"

"You are looking a little small, Enzo," Stefan replied. "It might ruin your reputation."

"I swear to God, I will kick your goddamn ass."

"Don't be a pussy!" Damon yelled to Enzo, looking at him.

"Muscles. Equal. Pussy," Alaric panted, the treadmill slowly coming to a stop.

"Running doesn't," Stefan chuckled.

"Good to see you all have your fitness regime for the right reasons."

Four pairs of eyes snapped around to Elena.

"What? Never seen a girl in a gym before?"

Damon's eyes dropped to her arm. "Not with a purse hanging off her arm."

I walk to the seats and set the purse down. "Better?"

"Sure you should be wearing yoga pants?" Enzo asked, his eyes dropping to her thighs.

Elena raised her eyebrows. "You want me to wear jeans to run on a treadmill?"

"Impractical," Alaric agreed. "And yoga pants are very, very practical."

With three sets of eyes on her hips and thighs, Elena twisted her lips to one side and snapped her fingers. "My eyes are up here, gentlemen."

"Up where?" Enzo asked, his gaze lingering on her chest.

"Another few inches!" Damon snapped, standing up and grabbing a towel.

He wiped his face, and when he dropped the towel to his chest, where her eyes were lingering, Elena blinked harshly and looked up. He smirked, having caught her red-handed, and she swallowed, looking back down at her tablet.

"Keep your balls on, dude," Enzo said, grabbing a water bottle from the crate next to Elena and sitting down. "I'm way too sweaty to hit on her."

"And Caroline told you all to lay the hell off her," Damon growled back.

"Told you, too," Alaric shot at him.

"Guys!" Elena exploded. "Do I look like a china doll?" She stared at all of them, and when they didn't respond, she continued, "No. Exactly. While I appreciate the sentiment, don't feel like you all have to hold back on me because my ex was a royal asshole. And, let's be honest, you four are about as scary as Caroline when she is pissed off."

Stefan laughed and made his way over to her. He rested his arm over her shoulder and squeezed. "And this is why you belong with us, Elena. You took shit, and now you don't, and I love it."

"Thanks?" Elena flicked her eyes to him and away again. "I think."

"Personally, I take offense," Alaric said, dropping onto a chair. "I'm terrifying."

"Like a toddler with a sugar high," she replied. "Can we get to the point now, please? My phone is blowing up with messages from people who somehow managed to procure my number and want a quote from you."

"What?"

Elena looked up at Damon. "My phone is blowing up," she repeated. "You got it that time?"

Damon stared at her flatly, annoyance sparking in his eyes. "It is being changed."

"Excuse me?"

"Your number. It is getting changed. On a regular basis. Water please," he added, to Stefan. Stefan threw a bottle across the room.

"Uh, why?" Elena questioned as Damon caught the water bottle.

He unscrewed the cap and tooka long drink, eyes still on her. "Because," he wiped his chin, "if media vultures can get your number, that ex of yours can."

"I'm not afraid of him." Her voice was stronger than she felt, because she had never considered it.

"You sure?"

"You plan on getting laid tonight?"

Damon smirked in response.

"Then there is your answer." Elena unlocked the tablet once again. "Moving on, boys. Since you all decided to skip breakfast to hit the gym," she glanced at them all, annoyed. "I have had to haul myself down here to sort you all out."

"Guilty," Enzo said. "Sort me out, Elena."

Alaric threw his empty bottle across the gym at him.

"I have the kick of a mule and several pairs of stilettos in my suitcase, so I would watch what you are asking for, Enzo." She brought up the week's schedule. "Sit down and be quiet," she added, rolling down the document to today. "You all have thirty minutes to shower and get ready to practice. The Royal Room is booked for you for the next three days and set up per your preferences. I have your performance song list here, and it will be printed and ready for you by the time you get there. Pearl will meet us here tomorrow, and as of then, she will be watching your practices, and a certain one of you's behaviour."

"Elena…" Damon warned.

Elena ignored him. "I will go over tomorrow's schedule at breakfast, so make sure you all show up."

"Elena."

"Now I'm going to work out. Try to keep your eyes up." Elena put the tablet back in her purse and pulled out her phone. She plugged her headphones in and start her running playlist on Spotify.

"Break Free" blasted into her ears, and ignoring the stares of the S collective, Elena hopped on a treadmill and started it up. Holding her thumb down on the speed button, she matched the pace as it went up and up.

If there was anything Elena to thank Liam for, it was her fitness. His insistence that his fiancée be the slimmest, most toned woman in Richmond meant far too many hours were put in at the gym. Never mind that it was never enough—that her hips were always too wide, that her ass was too round, that her boobs were too provocatively big. She was fit and healthy, and her boobs and hips weren't something she could shrink. And hey, she liked her curvy butt.

The track changes to "Neon Lights" by Demi Lovato. Another favourite song of Elena. Another guilty pleasure. Another addictive pop tune with a beat that made her feet pounded against the treadmill belt. Over and over, relentlessly, she ran until she felt sweat beading on her forehead and the rest of the room melted away.

"Elena!"

The treadmill slowed and stopped, and Elena looked up into Damon's frustrated blue eyes.

"What?" she snapped, pulling her headphones out.

"You want to explain what that was a minute ago? About behaving?"

Elena glanced over her shoulder and saw the other boys watching them. "Water, please." She held her hand out and Alaric passed her one. "Thanks." She turned back to Damon, unscrewing the cap. "I'm not sure what your problem is, Damon. You have to behave, and you know it. I spoke to Wes. He told me in not so many words that the only hole your cock is getting is the one you make with your right hand."

Damon's jaw tightened, despite the laughter behind. He was mad, Elena knew he was, but dammit, she was not going to let any of them knew they had shared more than words.

"You are testing my patience, Elena," Damon said in a low voice that rumbled through her. "You are testing it really good."

"And you are testing mine," Elena whispered, leaning forward. "If you think for one second I'm going to let anyone know you kissed me—twice—you can think again, Damon Salvatore, then you can shove those thoughts."

"Someone is real sassy now that she is not hiding."

"Someone is finding who she was meant to be all along, sass and all," Elena retorted, just as quietly, then added louder, "You guys need to shower and get down to the Royal Room to practice in fifteen minutes."

"You are going to check up on us, darling?" Damon drawled.

"Unlike the women you usually associate yourself with, I have no issue checking up on your butts in my workout clothes before I shower. It isn't pretty, so if I were you, I would leave now." Elena stared at him intensely, hoping he got her message.

 _Get the heck away from me._

After a long moment, Damon pressed the On button on the treadmill and stepped back. Just as she was thinking Thank God, a palm tapped her butt and Elena squealed, looking over her shoulder.

Damon backed out of the gym, empty except for Elena, grinning wolfishly. He pointed at her, then at himself, then at his mouth in a clear message.

 _You. Me. Make out. Soon._

Elena shook her head and turned her attention back to the treadmill. Seconds later, her phone buzzed in her bra. She pulled it out and opened the incoming message.

 _You. Me. In my bed._

Her eyebrows shot up and she almost tripped. Elena steadied herself on the handlebar and hit reply.

 _You. Me. You wish. No chance._

 _You crush me._

 _You are supposed to be behaving._

 _I just had the utmost pleasure of seeing your gorgeous, tight ass in yoga pants. Darling, there isn't a chance in hell I'm behaving myself around you._

Elena ignored that pound her heart did, because that thing was dumb, and tucked her phone back into her bra. She was not sure what game Damon was playing, but he wouldn't win it. She needed to break free from one man before another moved in—kisses not included. Kisses were…something simple and attraction-fuelled. Something she never got to randomly experience until now.

 _Yay for your parents choosing your future husband and forcing you to fall in love with him._

 _Maybe I need to start a bucket list._

 _Kiss just for fun: I can tick that off._

 _Have random sex._

 _Fall in love._


	8. Chapter 8

Elena leaned against the doorframe as The S finished up their practice. They were singing the song Stefan introduced when they were back home a few weeks ago without clearing it with their label or manager. Turned out it was so popular among fans that they were forced to practice and perform it on tour, ready to record the second it was over.

They were incredible, truly. Four men, each so different, so unique, yet they jelled together like they were quadruplets. Elena didn't think it would make a difference if Enzo and Alaric weren't brothers of Damon and Stefan. She thought the four of them would fit together in the most perfect way anyway.

It was easy to see why America—and no joke, the world—loved them. It was easy to see why they had rabid, crazy fans. Why even mums and grandmas sang along to their songs.

The S was magnetic, their pull so strong it was irresistible.

Standing here, listening to Stefan drawled the words to the song, to Enzo banging a low beat on the drum, to Alaric strumming his guitar, to Damon on bass, every part of Elena felt alive. Every beat of her heart was in time with the music, every pump of adrenaline matching the strum of the guitar.

And she knew that this was what it was to feel. Really feel. To relax and love, to be one with something positive. To understand the sweep of music through your veins.

Each one of them had a different view of the song. It was in their expressions. Even when they switched to another song seamlessly, never taking a beat or a breath, it was evident. Every lyric meant something different to each of them.

Elena slid along the wall and took a seat on the chair in the corner. Somehow none of them noticed her, so she set her purse on the floor quietly and lifted her knees so she could hug them to her chest.

She rested her chin on her knees and listened. She just listened. To the drums, to the guitars, to Stefan's voice, to Damon's backing him up huskily. And Elena closed her eyes. Hearing them here was different from on a stage, whether it was a concert or not. This seemed more…them. How they did it. Where they were most comfortable.

"Enjoy that?" Stefan asked with a teasing lilt in his voice.

Elena smiled and opened her eyes. "It wasn't bad."

"You want to hear another?"

"I would love to," she admitted, still smiling. "You are all so different here from onstage."

"We are sing-in-the-garage boys at heart," Enzo murmured. "One day, we will find a hotel with a garage."

"Get on that." Alaric nodded his head towards her.

"I will make sure to put it on my to-do list." Her smile followed her gaze to Alaric.

"Anything else on that list, darling?"

Elena flicked her eyes to Damon. "Oh, a lot of things, but every one that includes your name also includes the word 'behave,' so don't get too excited."

Damon smirked. "Elena, I'm on the list. That is enough."

"But so are the others."

"And that just got a whole lot less sexy."

"It was never meant to be sexy."

"Are we singing or what?" Stefan interjected. "Fail to seduce her on your own time, man. My girlfriend will chew my balls off if I'm late for dinner. I promised Caroline we will have dinner together, so let's get a wriggle on."

"What are we singing?" Enzo asked.

"Make it sentimental," Alaric butted in. "What about 'Give my love'?"

Stefan smiled and ran his hand over his guitar. "All right, Alaric. 'Give my love' it is."

Enzo counted them in, and they all kicked in with the beat, perfectly in tune. Elena leaned her head to the side as Stefan began to sing.

 _When I look in your eyes I can see that you_

 _Want to be with me but you're so scared_

 _And I don't know what to say or do_

 _But the tears keep falling from your eyes_

 _And I know that times won't change my love_

 _And I can't do nothing to keep you_

 _Oh, I'll give my love_

 _Oh when I hold you tight_

 _Give my love through kisses oh so bright_

 _And you know that I can't change my love_

 _Take my love all through the night_

"He wrote this for me," Caroline whispered, sliding onto the seat next to Elena.

"Really?"

She nods sadly. "It was one of the songs he wrote when we first met. I didn't know what to do."

Elena swallowed and looked at her. "He really loves you, huh? When you two first met?"

"Yeah. He does. And I do, too. I made some stupid mistakes, Elena, but I fixed them." She sighed. "I didn't know how to deal with having a relationship with someone famous back then. I feel guilty, even though he has forgiven me. I hear these songs…and, damn. I know they got to sing them, but I wish they wouldn't."

"They sing them so well," Elena whispered. "And Stefan—it is so easy to see why so many girls adore him. He means every word he sings, doesn't he? Especially the ones he has written."

Caroline lips twitched to the side. "How can you tell the difference?"

Elena shrugged a shoulder. "He sounds…different. Like, he smiles a little when he sings his. I didn't notice it before, but now I have seen them without tuning and all that other crap they do, I can see it."

"He does." Caroline smiled. "It is all they know. Music…It is their oxygen. Lyrics are their breaths. They couldn't live without it. Any of them. It has been that way apparently, Elena. If it was taken from any of them…" She shook her head. "Wes threatened to put Damon in rehab."

"I know. He told me."

"It isn't happening." Caroline looked at Elena, her eyes glimmering with determination. "These boys are my family, and no one is taking that cocky banana brain away from us."

Elena smiled. "It is up to him to stop it. Not us."

"No. Keep their schedule so full he can't go out and meet random chicks. Have him escorted from every concert, so even when he signs autographs, he is guarded. I won't have him taken away. It would kill her. It would kill Lillian. She loves him."

"He loves her," Elena said softly. "It is a total contradiction to his personality."

"I know." Caroline laughed quietly. "He acts like a big hard man, yet his mother can bring him to his knees."

"You are talking about Damon?" Stefan walked towards them.

"I wouldn't give his ego the satisfaction." Caroline winked.

"Wind it in, sugar, or I will come over there and kick your butt," Damon teased.

"Be nice!" Stefan demanded, frowning. "Be nice, Caroline."

"Yeah, Caroline, be nice," Damon nodded to Caroline.

"No! You be nice, Damon," Stefan repeated.

Both Caroline and Elena grinned.

Damon looked at his brother flatly.

"Caroline, stop being mean to him. He doesn't have his usual frustration outlet, and it is us with him all day," Enzo called across the room. "But if you brought a Playboy with you, carry on."

"Oh, yeah. Because a woman buying a Playboy doesn't look awkward at all."

"Does that mean you got one?" Damon asked, resting his elbows on his knees.

Caroline looked at him. "No."

"Crap."

"Behave." Caroline eyed him then turned to Stefan. "Dinner?"

"Okay, baby." Stefan looked at the others. "Anyone else coming?"

Elena shook her head no as everyone else answered. Everyone except Damon agreed to go out for dinner.

 _Crap. Should have gone with it,_ Elena thought.

"Looks like it is just me and you, princess." Damo half-grinned across the now-empty room.

"Or it is me and me, and you and you," Elena responded. "Just because we aren't going doesn't mean we have to dine together."

"Who said a thing about dining together?"

Her eyes found his across the room, slowly. His look back at her with a glint, one that looked suspiciously like desire.

"No one. But just in case you got ideas."

"Elena, I have always got ideas when you are around."

Oh hell. "I think I'm going to call for room service. Alone." Elena added as an afterthought, making it clear with a sharp gaze that "alone" really did mean "alone."

"Whatever you want." Damon leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest.

"You are not—you are not going to fight me on that?"

"Do you want me to?"

"No. I'm just surprised you are not." She gathered her purse from the floor and hung it over her arm. "What are you going to do?"

Damon shrugged, a tantalizing smirk playing on his lips.

"Damon."

"If you keep saying my name, my answer is 'I'm going to kiss you.' "

Elena narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to call the security and get them to keep an eye on you. You are not to leave this hotel. Do you understand that, Mr Salvatore?"

The smirk fell from his lips. "Mr Salvatore again? Really?"

Elena whipped out her cell phone, pressed call, and shot him a look over her shoulder as she walked away.

x x x

That look was far too attitude-filled for his liking. And that smirk on her pink lips. Damn.

Damon left his guitar leaning against his chair and got up, following Elena out the door. Having dinner alone—there wasn't a chance in hell she was going to do that. He was going to follow her through this hotel and up to her room because he wanted to. Besides, with the others not around, it was the perfect chance to pull some of that past of hers out of her, to make her talk.

He wanted to hear her talk.

Nobody would ever run from one night of abuse. That much was painstakingly clear.

"Hey, sugar," Damon drawled, leaning on the receptionist's desk.

"Mr Salvatore." She glanced up through her hair.

"Come on, now, I have told you to call me Damon…" His eyes flicked to her badge. "Stacey."

Stacey blushed. "How can I help you, Damon?"

"I can't seem to get hold of my assistant on the phone, and she is sick. I know she is in her room. I'm real worried about her. What are the chances of you giving me her room key so I can check on her?"

"Oh—I don't…I don't think I can, sir, I'm sorry. It is against policy."

"Aw, Stacey." Damon leaned forward fully and her eyes flicked to where his arms were straining against his T-shirt. "Her room is booked in my name. Who is going to know, huh? It can be our little secret." He winked.

Stacey's eyes flicked to her colleague and back to Damon. "I tell you what. Buy me a drink tomorrow after work and I will give you the key."

"You drive a hard bargain, sugar, but I will agree. It can't be too bad taking a girl such as yourself for a drink." Damon gave her his most charming smile and held out his hand. "Room 218."

Stacey got up and programmed a new key in less than a minute. She put it in his hand, smiled, and let her touch lingered for a minute too long. Damon widened his smile and pulled the key from her grip before heading to the elevator and dropping the grin.

Hell. Elena better appreciate the effort he was putting in for this room-service chat.

He exited the elevator and walked down the hall to her room. The key card slipped into the door easily, and he knocked twice, then pushed the door open.

"Damon! What the hell!" Elena shrieked, holding a fluffy white towel firmly around her body. Her long brown hair was wet and falling about her shoulders.

"Well, damn." His eyes trawled across her wet body of their own accord. From her long, curled eyelashes fluttering in shock to the droplets of water trailing down between her breasts to the way that towel barely skims the tops of her thighs. "Hello to you, too."

"What are you doing here?" she squeaked, stepping back into her bedroom.

"Couldn't stand the thought of a beautiful girl like you eating dinner alone," Damon said to her half-towel-covered tits.

"Me or my girls?"

"All of you, darling. Your ass and pussy, too." And food wasn't the only thing he would like to eat around her.

"You are so crude!" She shut her bedroom door. The loud sound was followed by the click of a lock.

"Aw, hell. There goes plan B."

"Oh, my God!" she cried through the door, banging in the room. "You are unreal!"

Damon grinned and dropped onto her sofa. This was hell—no girl should ever be seen in a tiny white towel like that. Especially not if that girl was Elena Gilbert and he was the guy seeing her.

He was getting hard in his pants, steadily growing harder with every passing second. So easy. It would have been so easy to push her against a wall and rip away that pathetic excuse for a towel and show her exactly why she should be fully clothed around him at all times.

No, she shouldn't. She should be stark naked and clean-shaven around him. Making coffee, ordering pizza, watching a movie…This chick should not own a single item of clothing.

Except panties. Panties were okay.

He loved panties.

He adjusted his jeans over his rock-hard cock. Sweet Jesus. If he had had known Elena was practically naked he would have waited five minutes and saved himself the torture of seeing and not touching. But, man. That was a quick shower. He knew for a fact Caroline took at least fifteen minutes. Elena wasn't even in there five. Or maybe she was—Stacey the Receptionist's seduction attempt swallowed up several minutes of his time.

"What on earth are you doing here, Damon?"

Damon focused his attention to Elena. At least he tried to. "I already told you, Elena. You can't have dinner alone, so here I am, ready to wine and dine you."

Elena licked her lips and failed to hide her smile. "Really? You are going to wine and dine the assistant you have known for nine days?"

"Darling, I usually take girls to my room without finding out their names after ten minutes in their presence." He smirked. "You should count yourself lucky."

"Oh, I do. As lucky as the kid that didn't win the goldfish at the country fair when all his friends did." Elena gave him a pointed look over the top of the room-service menu. "So what is this? A business meeting? A casual dinner? A lame and misguided attempt at a date?"

Damon choked on nothing at that last question. "A casual dinner. I don't do dates, darling."

Elena sat next to him and threw a menu onto his lap. "One would assume you are not leaving, so there you go."

"One would be correct," Damon put on his best Richmond accent.

Elena looked over at him, her mouth tugging into a smile, her eyes sparkling. "Really? That is the best you have? You are way too country to nail it."

"What?" He sat up straight. "I don't believe you."

"You are!"

"Do a Southern accent then, Ms. You Can't Nail It. I dare you."

Elena rolled her eyes, set her menu on her lap, and looked at Damon. "For real?"

"For real!"

"Fine!" She looked away a second then back to him. "Well bless your heart, sugar."

Damon blinked at her. "What the hell was that?"

"A Southern accent?"

"You sound like Caroline. How the hell?"

"You seem to have forgotten I have spent a whole bunch of time with you all in the last nine days, mostly Caroline and I also went to school with a few Southerners." Elena shrugged, lifting her menu again.

"Damn. You are hot as hell, sort my legal stuff, love my music, and you can pull off a Southern accent? Marry me, Elena."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Damon Salvatore, the day you find a girl stupid enough to marry you, I will get your name tattooed on my butt cheek."

Damon grinned. "Better start looking then, eh?"

"You better. It is going to take a while." She giggled into her menu. "Okay. I know what I'm eating. What are you having?"

"I'm ordering."

"Not for me you are not."

"I never said that. I just said I'm ordering. It is polite."

"The add-on at the end of that sentence really rudened it up."

"Rudened? What the hell is that?"

"I made it up, all right? Lay off."

Damon laughed and leaned over her for the phone. He dialled the code for room service, stutter out his order between chuckles, and then Elena said hers into the receiver. He ordered one bottle of Moscato for her and a few beers for himself, to be brought up immediately, on ice.

"Moscato, hmm?" Elena looked at Damon questioningly.

"It is all you drink, darling."

"I'm surprised you noticed."

"Me, too."

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door and Damon got up to answer it. A small cart was rolled in with their drinks, and the guy popped the cork on her wine and uncapped a bottle of beer. Damon thanked him and took the glass and bottle.

Elena took the glass from him with a contemplative expression. He smiled as her fingers brushed his and dropped down unceremoniously on the couch next to her. She shook her head and rolled her eyes but she didn't say a word.

Their eyes met several times over the next few minutes. Damon was checking to see if Elena was looking at him, and he would bet she was doing the exact same thing. It was dumb, because he was always looking at her. Even if she was sans makeup, with wet, unruly hair.

The girl was unreal.

"Would you like me to dry my hair? You are looking at me all confused," Elena mumbled into her glass.

"That is because I am not used to being attracted to natural girls. Yet I find myself incredibly attracted to you."

"Must be my stellar personality."

"Or them killer tits."

Her gaze snapped to his. "God, Damon!"

"Now there is a phrase I'm used to hearing."

"Oh my God!"

"That, too."

"I'm just going to stop talking."

"No, Elena. Don't. Your voice is pretty."

Elena slapped his bicep with the back of her fingers. "My voice is pretty? For real, Casanova? That the best you got?"

Damon tugged on a lock of her hair. "I'm trying to be nice here, which is, again, something most chicks don't get. Give me a chance, all right?"

"But if I did that, I would be one of those dumb chicks you associate with."

"True story that, darling. Although I am not doing that for now. I'm being good. Except for that chick at reception." He brushed his fingers down Elena's jaw. "I had to agree to buy her a drink before she would give me your room card."

"Hmm," she hummed. "I wondered how you swindled that one."

"I'm a regular Romeo."

"Seems it. Are you sure this dinner isn't getting in the way of meeting Ms. Receptionist?"

"Nah, I don't have to grace her with my awesome presence until tomorrow evening."

"What time?"

"She didn't say."

"Shame. You are busy all evening, practicing, per your manager's orders." Elena smiled and sipped her wine. "Part of his plan to keep you on the straight and narrow and away from kissing random girls."

"What if I kiss you? Does that count?"

"As what?"

"A random girl." Damon set his beer on the table in front of them and scooted along toward her.

Her chest heaves, and she swallowed, holding her wine in front of her body. "I'm not a random girl."

"So you don't count," Damon breathed, taking her glass from her and putting it on the table. "Right?"

"Um. I do count. I'm kind of random. And I'm a girl. So."

"Elena?"

"What?"

Damon press his chest against hers and curled his fingers around the back of her neck. "Shut up."

Elena inhaled as he closed the distance between their mouths. The taste of her wine was strong on her lips, and he ran his tongue across her bottom lip, revelling in the silky sweetness of it. Despite her protests, she arched her body into his, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck.

Damn, she was everything that was bad and good. She was temptation and resistance. Damn, she was sin. She was dark and light, a contradiction, a mystery to unravel. She was every thing he didn't know existed.

Elena was everything he never wanted to know existed.

Damon ran his fingers through her half-damp hair to the ends, and hers went into the curls at the nape of his neck, holding him tightly to her. It was nothing like he expected.

By rights, Elena should push him away, too afraid to blink at him. But every sweep of her lips, every kiss, every grasp at him told him that she trusted him. It could be smart or it could be dumb.

But he would never hurt her. Never. Ever. Not the way she had been hurt in the past. The thought of marring her beautifully skin made Damon sick to his stomach. She was not a goddamn punching bag—she was a woman, formed and curved and gorgeous. More than that, Elena Gilbert was the woman you respect, because she respected herself.

Knock, knock.

What was it with people knocking when he was kissing her?

"Food," Damon whispered against her soft mouth.

"Get off me," Elena murmured, but he could feel her smiled against him.

Damon groaned into her, but she shoved at him, and he got up and answered the door. Another server wheeled a cart into the room, this time with two plates topped with those silver dome things. She uncovered each plate, his steak and Elena's chili nachos. He thanked the girl, shoved a twenty into her hand, then grabbed Elena's plate.

Damn, those nachos smelled really good.

Damon put her plate on the coffee table in front of her. Then he grabbed a nacho, dipped it into the chili topping, and shoved it into his mouth. She gasped as he backed towards the cart and got his steak. It was decorated with fries and salad, but hell, he should have gone for what she did.

Elena grabbed a cheese-coated nacho from the side and dived it into the centre of her plate. With a huge mound of ground beef on the chip, she forced it into her mouth quite spectacularly. Holy crap, this girl could open her mouth wide.

"See something you like?" she questioned, doing it again.

"Elena, I see a lot of things I like."

Elena rolled her eyes and ate another chip. "Of course you do. You are drooling, Damon."

"Elena, you are eating them like you have never had them before."

She paused, a chili-coated chip halfway to her mouth. Her eyes dropped to it, and Damon stared at her, her silence anything but accidental. Or maybe it was—who knew?

"I wasn't allowed them," Elena said in a quiet voice. "Only when I got to have a slumber party with the girls, which was way too infrequent." She swallowed, setting the chip down. "It didn't matter if we had company or not. I had to eat with cutlery, because fingers were for uncivilized people."

He couldn't look away from her. Her words were no more than a whisper, but they cut right through me. She couldn't eat what she wanted? What the hell?

"Pizza?" Damon asked softly.

"Had to be cut with a knife and fork," she answered, trailing a nacho around in the chili. "I'm sure my friends knew something was up, because if we ever had it alone, I would eat it normally. But Liam made sure I ate in a 'sophisticated' manner."

Liam. His name left a sour taste in his mouth.

"That was it. Perfection. Sophistication. There was no other option. If I tried something else…" her voice trailed off, and she nibbled at the end of the chip.

"How long?"

Elena's eyes moved to his but they left just as quickly.

"How. Long?"

She shook her head.

Rage swirled in his stomach, building and tightening and coiling. It spread through him with every second of her silence, her denial, her protection of him.

"How long was that bastard putting his hands on you, Elena?"

"Too long," she whispered, wiping her hands on a napkin.

"How long?" His voice was harsher than he wanted, the growl deeper.

"Two years."

That rage—it exploded. It consumed him. Drowned him. How the hell could anyone hurt her? This sweet and pleasant girl? How could anyone, for a single second, think it was okay to hurt her? To bruise her, to maim her, to put a blemish on her?

How the hell was that right in any place in this world?

Damon enveloped her body in his arms. Held her—that was what his body screamed. Held her so tightly she realized the safety he was offering her was stronger than the fear that was threading through her veins.

"How?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "How did you do it?"

"I was afraid," Elena whispered. Her fingers dug into his back tentatively, moving up and down, as if searching for their perfect landing spot. "I had nowhere to go, and to me, no real reason to go. I always thought he would change. He promised it. Every time. He had hurt me, then he would hold me and promise he wouldn't do it again. I believed him."

Damon slid his hand up her back and into her hair. "What made you go, finally?"

"We were about to get married. My mum sent me a message reminding me that I was getting married in exactly four weeks, and it was scary." She swallowed. "I was getting dressed, and there was this bruise on my stomach from the day before, and I knew…I just knew. We had been together for three years, and if he was still hitting me weeks before our wedding, chances were, he would be hitting me for weeks after, too. And I didn't want to be that girl. Before him, I never feared more than spiders and rats, things that seem so trivial now. So I knew, no matter what, I was going to run. Anywhere. I applied for jobs everywhere, whenever I could get out of the house. Hell, I did my interview with Caroline over the phone at a nail salon in Norfolk. Then you gave me this job. I took it and I ran without looking back." Her fingers dug into his skin almost painfully, her voice a whisper. "I'm not a punching bag, Damon. I won't be that. I'm more than that."

Her words, they shook. Her voice, it was weak. Like she needed to convince herself of it even as she said the words.

"Elena…Elena." Damon folded her into his body entirely, so her cheek was against his chest and her nose was against his shoulder. "You are, darling. You are so much more than that. You are everything that isn't that."

"But I'm scared. I say I'm not, but I am. A little."

Damon slid his hands to her face and looked at her. Her dark hair sweeping across her forehead. Her brown doe eyes boring into his, begging, pleading, sassing, confusing. And he brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, right beneath her eyes, his thumbs swallowing up any type of wetness there.

"Don't be afraid." He cupped Elena's cheeks and brought her forehead close to his. "As long as I'm near you, don't be afraid, darling."

"It is not your job." Her voice was so quiet it wasn't even a whisper.

"No. This kind of protection isn't my job. It is my will." He touched his lips to hers. "If he ever gets past our boys, promise me you will call me, and you will keep trying until I answer and get to you."

Elena pulled her knees to her chest. "I don't want to think of that."

"Neither do I. I don't want to think about a situation where he can touch you." Damon held her tighter. Her breath against his skin, her fingers trailing his stomach, her eyes set on his. "If he comes within ten feet of you, darling, you tell me. Elena, you tell me, because I will snap his neck. You understand?"

"I'm scared."

She was trembling in his hold. Trembling. Quivering. Shaking.

"Of him," Damon whispered into her ear. "Don't fear me, baby. I will never be anything but gentle towards you. Fear what I will do to him if he tries to come near you."

Elena nodded, her fingers grasping his shirt.

"I will never hurt you."

Her trembling body was in his arms, pressed against him, held against him. Her hands were on him, her lips quivering, too.

"I know," she breathed. The words were so quiet he could barely hear.

"Ever. Not the way he did. Trust me, darling. Believe me."

"I do." Elena took a deep breath then sat up. Her hands fell away from him and Damon loosened his grip on her body when she tilted her head back to look at him. "Do you have multiple personalities?"

"What do you mean?" His lips quirked.

"One minute you are storming in here being all rude, then the next you are being sexy, then you are being sweet."

"Did you just call me sexy?"

"What? No. I said 'being sexy,' not 'you are sexy.' "

"You said 'you are being sexy.' " Damon grinned. "So you think I'm sexy?"

Elena knocked his arms away from her and pulled her plate from the table and onto her lap. "It doesn't matter if I think you are sexy. You think you are sexy."

"I am sexy. I just want to know if you agree."

"And we are on another personality—the stubborn-toddler one."

He grabbed one of her nachos. "You are naming my moods?"

"You don't have mood swings, Damon. You really do have total personality flips. It makes no sense."

"You want me to be an asshole all the time?"

"I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with any version of you."

"You are comfortable when I'm kissing you." Damon winked and grabbed another chip.

"Will you stop eating my food?" Elena pushed his hand away with a sharp slap to his fingers, then froze.

Damon stared at her. Her hand was poised in mid-air, her gaze focused on it like she couldn't believe she just did that.

He flicked his fingers against hers and grabbed another chip. "No. They are good."

Slowly, Elena drew her eyes upward. Her dark gaze, full of uncertainty, lingers on his for a moment. Then—hell—then she dropped her hand and smiled. "Then order another plate of them."

"Pass the phone."

"I'm not your slave, I'm your assistant."

"I know." Damon grinned. "So you should be ordering them for me, darling."

She pursed her lips and reached behind her for the phone. Dialling the number, she pulled it to her ear and said, "Can I get another plate of chili nachos to room 218? Extra-large size?" Paused. "That is great. Thanks."

"Extra-large size?" Damon questioned, grabbing one of hers.

"Yes. All your talking is making me hungry, and since you have already eaten half of mine and don't intend to stop, I thought it was wise."

"You are a smart girl, Elena."

"The fact I'm eating dinner with you puts that up for debate," she muttered, grabbing her wineglass and pushing her plate onto his lap.

"Hey, thanks." Damon leaned back and coated a chip in salsa.

Elena shot her eyes towards him over the rim of her glass, twisted her lips to the side, then drank. "Idiot."


	9. Chapter 9

Elena grabbed five water bottles from the bar, charge them to The S account, and hopped into the elevator. Her arms chilled quickly against the ice-cold bottles, and she was thankful when the doors opened and she could run down the hall to the gym.

She bumped the door open with her butt. "Water."

The guys all looked up from the floor where they were completing push-ups. "You are a doll," Alaric said, getting up.

Damon, Stefan and Enzo each grabbed a bottle from Elena and then they dropped to the mats on the floor. Damon held the cold bottle against his forehead, while Enzo rolled it back and forth across his chest, and Stefan drank it quickly.

Alaric stared at them, still standing, and cut his eyes to her. "Bunch of pussies."

"Shut up," Damon replied immediately. "You did half as many push-ups as us. Kept stopping because your little baby arms couldn't take the pressure."

"Shut it or my little baby fist will meet your face, asshole."

Elena coughed and smiled sweetly when four pairs of eyes snapped to her. "Hi, I'm still here."

"And thank you for giving us something nice to look at as we take a break," Alaric flirted.

Damon punched his arm. "Stop being a dick."

"And I am still here, when you are done fighting." Elena eyed all of them. "Pearl is waiting for you in the Royal Room. She told me to tell you to move your lazy butts up there. Well, she used a lot more expletives."

"Has she got PMS? Because if she does, I am not going anywhere near her," Stefan muttered. "One chick with it is more than enough."

"I will make a note to find Caroline tonight and hand her chocolate cake and wine," Elena reassured him with a smile.

"That is why we pay you."

"Sure. That's it." Elena rolled her eyes.

Pearl shoved the door open and put her hands on her hips. "Are all of you still messing around down here?" Her eyes landed on the guys. "Upstairs. Shower. Practice. Now."

Elena blinked harshly. Damn. Now she understood why they mumbled about her when she wasn't around—she didn't mince her words. She didn't sugar-coat them either.

"Keep your panties on, Pearl." Damon screwed the cap back on his bottle. "We just finished."

"Yeah, no fooling around. Now are you all going to do what you are supposed to be doing or stand around here chatting?" She looked at Elena. "And aren't you supposed to be making them do it?"

"I'm sorry?" Elena's eyes widened. "I just got down here like two minutes ago myself. I literally just told them they need to get ready to practice."

"Hmm." She smacked her bright pink lips together. "So why are they still here? Don't you know their schedule yet?"

"Pearl," Damon growled.

"I know their schedule." Elena turned to face her. "It says they don't have to be in the Royal Room to practice for another fifteen minutes. Then they will practice for two hours, break for lunch for one, then they will practice for three with a fifteen-minute break when they want it. And since there is a table booked for dinner at a restaurant down the road at six p.m. that is non-negotiable, they can't be late for anything. I write their darn schedule, so instead of coming down here and chewing their behinds out, let them do their thing." Elena unscrewed the top of her water bottle but paused before she took it fully off. "And making sure they are where they need to be is my job. You are only here to make sure Damon behaves himself and make sure everything the practise is okay. They will meet you in the Royal Room in fifteen minutes, showered and ready to practice."

Pearl stared at Elena harshly, and Elena got the feeling she was used to running the show around here. Well, she could—when she was running her job. Not when she was running hers.

Elena was not a pushover anymore.

Pearl turned without a word and slammed the door shut behind her. Elena stared at it for a second, then removed the cap from her water bottle.

"Holy crap," Damon said, making Elena turned to look at him. "I think I just came in my pants."

Elena licked her lips and fought her smile. "What?"

"There is nothing sexier than a woman who takes no crap," he replied.

"And when you take no crap from Pearl, you are automatically up there with Scarlett Johansson," Enzo added.

"Awesome," Elena replied. "Now get your butts upstairs and into the shower so I don't have to cover your asses yet again. You were supposed to be practicing fifteen minutes ago."

They all laughed, which made her smile-fight futile. Elena eyed them all as they walked out of the gym, except Damon, who paused in front of her. When the door shut behind Stefan, Damon swept an arm around her waist and pulled her into him, squashing her water bottle between them. Elena squeaked as the cold liquid burst up and covered her front, but he ignored her and planted a huge, hard kiss on her slightly parted lips.

"Hello sexy," he muttered, stepping back when she pushed at his chest.

"Speak for yourself." Elena looked down at her shirt.

"I didn't realize there was a wet T-shirt competition today."

"There isn't."

"Shame. You would have won it." He trailed a fingertip down her front to the swell of her breasts, and Elena stepped back, away from his reach.

"You need to get ready to practice," she said quietly, capping her water. "Like, now."

"Elena"

"You want Pearl to chew your ass out, then hang around, but I have stuff to do." She darted past him and through the doors.

Elena was still trying to reconcile soft Damon and asshole Damon. She was still trying to make sense of the soft guy beneath the hardened exterior—why he was so gentle with her but so harsh to everyone else.

And that soft act, she didn't want to get pulled in by it. The random kiss just then? It was enough to make anyone believe that something tangible could be forming. Something real and longer-lasting than his usual thing.

Thankfully she was not anyone. Thankfully, she was so wound up in their lives that she knew the frequency of Damon's sex life was about to decrease quite drastically, and she was probably nothing more than a time-filler for him. Something for him to distract himself with while he cleaned up his appearance.

And…that wasn't okay. Elena wouldn't go from being used by one man to being used by another. She wouldn't fall for his gentle-protector act.

Because that was all it was…An act. And she knew an awful lot about acts.

x x x

"Oh, my God," Caroline mumbled so quickly the words all mesh together. "Chocolate cake!" This, she shrieked, and it bounced off the walls of the hotel restaurant. She fell into the seat next to me and dived the fork into the hot, gooey mess quicker than Elena could respond. She shoved a forkful of the cake into her mouth, moaned, and leaned back. "Chocolate fudge cake. Oh, Elena. I'm going to marry you one day."

Elena laughed. "Don't marry me—marry your boyfriend. He called me after practice and told me you needed to have chocolate fudge cake, not just any old cake, because he was pretty afraid of you."

Caroline winced. "Yeah, I kind of flipped on Pearl. She was being a total bitch to the guys, and, well, hormones and all that jazz."

"Yeah…I might have put her in a bad mood." Elena chewed the inside of her cheek and stabbed her fork into her cheesecake. She explained the events in the gym and how she covered for the guys, and Pearl's non-reaction to her calling her out. "So now, I think she hates me."

Caroline giggled and sipped her glass of wine. "Okay, she doesn't hate you. She likes Damon."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"She likes Damon. Like…likes him, likes him. But he refuses to have anything to do with her because she is Wes' assistant and also the band's agent, and it would be real awkward after."

"Is that why she is a raging pain in the ass? Really?"

"I love your passive-aggressiveness," Caroline laughed. "Yeah, pretty much. I think she is kind of the same as Damon in that she is used to getting the attention she wants."

"But why does she like him?"

"Why do you?"

"I don't, I mean, wait. What was the question?" Elena filled her mouth full of cheesecake and chewed slowly.

"Why do you like Damon?" Caroline repeated. "Don't think I don't see how you two look at each other. Is he as good a kisser as the rumours say?"

"Isn't he practically your brother?"

"Yes. But I have heard enough rumours to want them cleared up, and you didn't deny it."

Ah, crap. That was what Elena should have said. "I haven't kissed him."

"Nice cover up."

"I haven't. He kissed me."

"Semantics." Caroline squealed, setting her fork down. Apparently, the cure for her PMS wasn't chocolate fudge cake, it was girl talk. "Tell me."

Elena stared at her plate. Before she could think it over, the words tumbled from her mouth like they were falling over a cliff edge. She couldn't stop them, she couldn't slow them down. From their fight in the parking lot in Mystic Falls and him having her cornered against the bus and her breakdown to her talking to him after the sex tape thing to dinner last night, Elena told Caroline everything.

How Damon changed from rough to gentle, and how he talked softly when she clammed up. How he promised her she was safe now, and how he held her when she was afraid. Mostly how he held her when she was afraid.

How he was nothing like everyone thought he was. How the person he was behind closed doors wasn't the guy the media and the girls in his past portrayed him.

And how she was confused, because not ten days ago she was running away from her abusive fiancé, and now she was here, having kissed the worst kind of guy possible, wondering how her life had changed so much.

Caroline reached over the table and swapped their plates. "I think you need the chocolate cake more than me." Then she refilled their glasses.

Elena stabbed her fork into the hot mess and scooped a big piece into her mouth. She nodded. She did need it. God she loved cake.

"So…what are you going to do?"

"What am I going to do? I was kind of hoping you would have the answer," Elena grumbled. "I don't get this…confused stuff. And I certainly don't get kissing without being in a relationship at all."

"Elena," Caroline said softly. "Do you know a real relationship at all?"

Elena paused, looking down, and swallowed. No. She had no idea what one entailed. Her head jerked side to side roughly, and she sat back.

"Real relationships aren't cut and dry, and most of the time the people involved have no idea what is happening. I was worried about my relationship with Stefan initially. I didn't want to fall for my co-worker but I did. Stefan is the one who makes me believe that our relationship will work and it did. Now I'm not saying you and Damon have any kind of relationship. I'm just saying that you are kind of alike. You have a past you are ashamed of, and so does he. Both of you are forcing yourselves to move past the bullshit and onto something better." Caroline licked her fork clean and pointed it at her. "But if I see you falling at his stinky feet I'm going to drag you back up."

Elena laughed. Hell no. "No falling," she assured Caroline. "No falling, no tripping, no slipping. Besides, I'm afraid of what he might think I'm planning if I do that."

Caroline grinned and sipped her wine. "Damon is not a bad guy. Not really. He just went too far at the start of The S boom, and now he is stuck with a stereotype I don't think he knows how to shift."

"So you are saying I should just let him keep kissing me whenever he wants."

"Well, I'm not saying let him, but if you like it, then you don't have to stop it."

Elena opened her mouth, but closed it again seconds later. Pursed her lips. Licked her lips. "Well, I don't not like it."

Caroline's eyes flicked from the cheesecake to her several times, her lips twitching. "So like it some more. And, Elena? You have been a lot happier the last few days. Like…you have come out of that tight little shell you had yourself wrapped in. You are giving the guys as good as you get, and from what Stefan said, you gave Pearl a real ass-kicking earlier. You wouldn't do that when you got here. Just…I don't know, doll. Let whatever happen. It won't kill either of you, and you sure as hell deserve some fun."

Elena guessed she was right. She was just not sure Damon Salvatore was the right kind of fun. In fact, she was positively sure he was the worst kind of fun. Not least because they essentially lived together for the next few weeks. What if…what if she liked the man behind the mask and, as soon as his bad behaviour quarantine was over, he grabbed some random chick?

x x x

"Damn." Damon sat opposite Elena at the table. "That chick…"

"What chick? The receptionist?"

Damon looked at her, exhausted. "I'm so glad you all don't talk that much. I can't stand her. She talks non-stop!"

"Ouch." Caroline winced. "How did you get away?"

"Told her my PA needed me." His eyes still on Elena, he smirked. "So need me real quick, darling, before she walks through here and sees I'm just chatting. Wait…Damn! She is coming! Do something!"

"Never thought I would see the day Damon Salvatore would run from a girl," Caroline giggled, finishing her second glass of wine.

Elena agreed, nodding, and finished hers, too. "Come on." She got up and grabbed Damon's hand. "Let's keep with the play pretend. Caroline, Wes called and Damon said bye." She winked conspiratorially, and Caroline grinned.

She pulled Damon out of his seat and tugged him behind her.

"Elena…" His fingers tightened around hers. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you out of the rest of your date." Elena took her keys from her pocket and unlocked the door to the Royal Room. "Get in."

"By seducing me in a dark room?"

Elena laughed. "You wish, Casanova." She flicked the lights on and pulled the door shut. "Didn't you hear what I said to Caroline?"

"That Wes called?"

"Yes. He didn't. Obviously. Caroline will tell her you had to take it and that you paid the bill, but you are going to be a while, so she should go."

"And what happens when we go back in there pretty soon?"

"Then the call was done sooner than expected and you came for a post-call drink to talk with your assistants." Elena nodded and put her hands on her hips. With a pointed look, she added, "If she leaves her number, I will throw it in the trash."

"God, that sentence sounds sexy coming from you."

"The post-call drink?"

"No. The throwing her number in the trash."

"I fail to understand how that is even remotely sexy."

"I have three girls in my phone. My mother," Damon held up one finger, "Caroline," another finger, "and you." A third finger flicked up and he stepped towards her. "And you talking about throwing out a girl's number…"

"You are very strange." Elena quirked an eyebrow. "Are you just permanently horny?"

"Around you? Yes. It is like a reflex."

Damon was standing in front of her now, and they were almost toe-to-toe. He towered over her by several inches, his bulky, muscled form casting a shadow over her petite, slender body. Elena was tiny in comparison to him, and even his head was bent forward so he could look at her. His hands were by his sides, fingers hooked in his belt loops casually, and his shirt was rumpled where it met his jeans. And the bulge in his jeans caught her eye.

That was a considerably sized bulge.

Very considerable.

Elena drew in a sharp breath, making her chest heave, and Damon brought his fingers to her chin. He tilted her head back so her eyes collided with his brightly burning ones.

"A very strong reflex."

"Do you know anything about personal space?" Breathlessly, the words fell from her lips.

"Yes," he murmured, stepping into her. "I know that I love it when you are in mine."

"I mean other people's."

Damon slid his hand from her chin to the back of her head, twining his fingers into the hair at the base of her skull, and rested his other hand on her waist. "I respect personal space," he whispered, every breath fluttering over her lips, making them red hot. "But yours looks empty, darling. It needs filling."

"And you are the perfect guy for the job, right?"

His lips crushing against hers answered her question. Damon pushed them back and Elena gasped as her back hit the wall. She grasped his shirt as if it would ground her, but she was consumed by his tongue flicking against hers. He asked no permission. H was not gentle. He was rough and demanding.

His lips were harsh and desperate, his fingertips digging into her in a way that stings so bad it was almost sweet, and his hard body against hers almost suffocated her, but that was because Elena could feel all of him, from his tensed pecs to his hardened cock.

He was against her, fully, entirely, every dip and bump of his body evident despite the clothing between them. And as his teeth grazed across her bottom lip in a tantalizingly teasing way that made her moan quietly into his mouth, she wanted that clothing gone.

Elena dipped her hands beneath his shirt and trailed them up his back. His grip got tighter, his kiss became firmer. His movements were almost possessive, but not in a bad way. They were not selfish or careless. Every twitch of his fingers brought her pleasure. Every swipe of his tongue turned her on, too.

And she was. Turned on. She was turned. The. Hell. On. Her breasts were aching, her nipples pebbling, and her clit was aching in a way she thought it forgot long ago. But it hadn't, it remembered, and her muscles remembered, and her pussy was clenching, her fingers were gripping, her lips were moving. His hands were caressing, his tongue was battling, his erection was growing.

There were only two of them—no doubts, no what-ifs, no maybes. There was the kiss and the need and the want. There were the actions and the gasps and the tiny moans and the desperation. There was Damon and Elena, the two who didn't make sense, the two who shouldn't do this but did anyway, on both accounts.

"You," Damon growled into her ear. "What the hell are you doing to me? All through that drink, you drove me crazy. I should have been thinking how soon I could get her upstairs and take her to my bed. But, no, I was thinking that she wasn't you. That she didn't look like you, think like you, talk like you. That she wasn't Elena. That I had to get back to you, to do this, to feel you, to taste you. I had to get back here to feel something real."

The low, husky tone of his words sent shivers ricocheting through Elena's body. One by one, her limbs shuddered as the electric current ran rampant through her veins. "What took you so long?"

"Good question." Damon silenced her once more. His hands explored her body, and with no bruises, no pain, they could go wherever, touch wherever, feel wherever.

"Elena? Damon? I tried texting . . . Oh, what the hell!" The door slammed suddenly with Caroline's shout.

"Oops," Damon murmured against her mouth. "Now we are in trouble."

"I didn't do anything," Elena protested in a whisper. "You kissed me."

"You responded," he threw back, equally as quietly, lips curving into a cocky smirk.

"I was cornered." Elena tapped the wall on either side of her and pushed off it.

Damon grabbed her into him, his hands sliding down to her ass, and pressed his lips to her neck. They lingered just below her ear, his breath cascading over her skin, and he whispered, "By the time we leave Georgia, you and I will know each other very, very well, darling."

"You are so confident."

"I could slide my hand inside your panties right now to prove me right, but I don't need to, because you know I'm right," he breathed harshly. "And feeling how wet you are, touching your undoubtedly perfect pussy, will only torture me more."

"Damon…"

"Tell her we are done before I shoot her," he muttered, a slight growl infiltrating his tone. "But, Elena, darling?" he pulled her face towards his. "We aren't done here. We aren't done until you are beneath me, I'm buried deep inside you, and my name falling from your lips. Got it?"

"Understood," Elena said in a tiny voice.

She stepped back from him, but Damon reached out and grabbed her hand. "Did I…Did I hurt you? Just then?"

Elena shook her head. "No."

"Good." He pushed her bangs from her forehead and rested his palm against her cheek for a moment. He turned and opened the door to Caroline. "Caroline. Hi."

"Hi indeed." She glanced around him at Elena. "I was just, er, coming to say that I got rid of Stacey, and that Stefan is holding the table for us, and that you all could come back now. But I don't want to interrupt anything, so, you know. Come back when you feel ready to."

"Oh, we are ready." Elena ran her fingers through her hair and slid past Damon. "Well, I am, and that is good enough for me."

Damon grinned, closing the door behind her. "You are going to lock it, darling?"

Elena threw her keys at him over her shoulder and kept walking.

Damon caught her keys in the palm of his hand and his grin widened. Damn—she didn't look like she was pinned against a wall less than five minutes ago. Clearly, he was not kissing her hard enough.

Damon meant every word he said to Elena, though. Stacey who? Who was that chick he just wasted forty-five minutes with? She was never getting into his hotel room anyway, and that was before Elena sat across the restaurant with Caroline and consumed his every thought.

Because—damn. This girl was killing him. And not in a good way. He wasn't lying when he said he would be inside her by the time they left Atlanta. He would claim her within days. He couldn't not. He already broke all the working-for-me rules a million times by being incapable of not kissing her.

So, yeah, he was going to take her to bed. He was going to kiss her and worship her body, and he was going to claim her until she succumbed to overwhelming pressure.

Damon slid onto the chair next to Elena, grabbed her fork, and put some of her cake in his mouth. She gasped and snatched the fork back, nudging him with her elbow.

"Don't you know a thing about women?" she snapped lightly. "Never, ever, ever, ever take their cake."

Damon grabbed her wine.

"Or her wine!" Elena almost growled, taking the glass back and drinking it. "Understand?"

"I understand as clear as you do, darling." Damon smirked and flagged a waiter for a beer.

"I missed something," Stefan said, looking between them.

Caroline rested her hand on his thigh. "Don't worry, honey. Don't worry."

Elena coughed and handed the empty wine bottle to the waiter who brought the beer. He nodded his head, then disappeared back behind the bar.

"That was a very self-assured move."

She cut her eyes to Damon. "Bite me."

"I would love to."

Her eyes narrowed.

Damon laughed

Stefan sat back. "I definitely missed something."

x x x

"So. You and Elena."

"Hi, Caroline. How are you, Caroline? How's my little brother?" Damon opened his suite door, and she strolled in without a care. She dumped her purse on the chair and leaned against the counter.

"So," she repeated. "You and Elena."

"Me and Elena, what?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Damon Salvatore. I saw you two last night. How you were kissing, all passionate. I wish I'd have just closed the door and walked out secretly."

"Why didn't you?" He shot at her.

"Because I didn't expect to find the makings of a porn movie!" she exclaimed. "You two were all over each other. And hot damn, the temperature in that room was through the damn roof!"

"I don't know, all right?" Damon dropped onto the sofa and ran his fingers through his hair. "She is driving me nuts, Caroline. She is driving me insane. I don't do this—all that kissing and bullshit. I have sex, plain and simple. But she makes me do…more."

"More…how?" Caroline walked towards him slowly and sat on the chair.

"I'm so damn conscious of not hurting her like he did that I want to make her want me slowly. Like, I don't want to hurt her, Caroline."

"Physically?"

"Never."

"Emotionally?"

His words got caught in his throat.

"Damon Salvatore," Caroline quietly gasped. "Are you falling for Elena?"

"I don't fall. Falling would imply it is an accident, and nothing about her is an accident."

"So you like her."

"You have met her, talked to her. She is sweet and nice. How can I not?"

"No, dumbass." Caroline leaned forward. "I mean…you…like her."

"I get hard whenever she walks in the room so, yeah, I guess."

"Dammit, Damon!" She grabbed the throw pillow from behind her and threw it at his head. "She isn't a conquest or a goddamn one-night stand. She is your assistant. She is lost. She has finally finding her feet in a world that's brand-new to her. She isn't the chick you throw away when you are done. She is cute, and I swear, you mess her around, and I'm twisting your balls off."

"Whoa, Caroline. I never said a thing about messing her around. Didn't you hear me? I don't want to hurt her. That is why I know I should stay away, but every time she looks at me, she pulls me in. She is irresistible."

The door opened and Stefan stared at him from the doorway.

Damon looked at both of them. "You think I should take Elena for dinner?"

"Date?"

"No, dinner."

"Same thing, Damon," Caroline sighed.

"Dinner."

"Date!" Caroline said.

Damon held his hands up. "Okay, okay!"

Stefan looked at him. "You sure this is a good idea, bro? I mean, she is kind of fragile, and you don't really date…"

"It isn't a date," Damon protested. "It is dinner."

Caroline snorted, stood, and threw her purse over her shoulder. "Call it what you want to call it, Damon, but when you ask that girl out for dinner, it is a date."

"Hell," Damon growled, throwing a coaster at her. "Just book me a table somewhere, all right?"

Caroline gripped the door and grinned. "All right, Damon. All right."

"She is your assistant," Stefan reasoned as Caroline left. "Damon, man, we all know about what happened to her. You think that, out of all of us, you are the right choice?"

"One, you sleep with your promotion manager every night. And two, you don't know a damn thing about her, Stefan. So, what is your point?"

Stefan stared at him. "All right, I got nothing on the first point," he laughed. "But the second…You are right, I guess, but, Jesus, Damon. Don't be your usual asshole self, all right?"

"Cute. My baby brother is giving me dating advice."

"Your baby brother is the only one in this family that's ever had a girlfriend for longer than a cycle on a damn washing machine," he snapped.

Damon laughed. "I know. My baby brother is the love expert now." He nodded toward the door.

"God, man. You never change, do you, brother?" Stefan shook his head, then followed Caroline through the door.

It slammed behind him, and Damon leaned forward, buried his head in his hands, and wondered what the hell he just did.

A date with Elena.


	10. Chapter 10

"Are you insane? I can't have dinner with Damon!"

Caroline ran her teeth over her bottom lip. "You kind of have to. The table is booked. I just kind of…beat him to this information."

"What!" Elena stared at her. What? "No. I'm not doing it. I'm not going out with him."

Elena walked into the small kitchen area and turned on the coffee machine. She didn't even want coffee. She just wanted something to distract her.

Dinner with Damon Salvatore? Like a date dinner? Or even just a simple dinner?

No. No. No. No.

"Okay, in my defence, I spoke to him two hours ago and I thought he had already asked you," Caroline sighed. "But, Elena, it is just dinner. Maybe he wants to talk…business."

"Oh, you know that is not true!" Elena raised her eyebrows and pointed at her. "He cannot be alone with me without invading my personal space and his tongue getting all up and personal with mine!"

Caroline paused, then hid a giggle behind her hand. "In private. In public he might be a little more…reserved."

"Really?" Elena gripped the side of the counter and looked at her. "Damon? Reserved? How do those words even fit together in a sentence?"

"This is true." Caroline chewed on her thumbnail. "Well, okay, but it is less likely, right?"

Elena stared at her some more.

"Okay," Caroline finally gave in and dropped onto the sofa. "So, what are you going to tell him?"

"Wait, what?" Elena dropped the coffee beans all over the floor. "I'm not telling him anything. Technically he didn't ask me anything." She sniffed and bent down to gather them.

Caroline folded her arms across her chest. "What is really the issue, Elena? I can see you are holding something back."

Elena sighed. "I just…I don't want to do a date thing. I don't want to go to dinner and have it appear to be something it isn't." At Caroline's raised eyebrows, another sigh escaped her. "I don't want dinner with him, okay? He made some very…clear…promises last night, some I'm not particularly ready for, and I think avoiding him is the best way to avoid the fulfilment of those."

"Well it isn't going to take a genius to figure them out," Caroline drawled, and Elena blushed. "But you are his assistant. You can't avoid him."

"I can avoid him for anything other than work."

"Really?" Caroline looked at her with utter disbelief. "Good luck with that."

Elena walked into the gym, reeled off the guys' schedule, and walked back out before any of them could question her.

An hour later, she took four bottles of water into the Royal Room, dumped them in Pearl's lap, and left without a word.

Four hours after that, she poked her head around the door and told them their reservation was in thirty minutes, and that they should get changed. Then she took the elevator to her room, shoved a chair under the door handle, and, with her phone switched off in the other room, turned on the TV and grabbed her nachos.

See? Avoiding him was easy.

Day three of Operation Avoid Damon Unless Necessary was working. Juvenile, yes, but working.

Getting involved with Damon Salvatore any more than she already had was a big fat hula-dancing no-no. It had already gone too far. He had already pushed too much and taken too much from her. More than Elena was ever willing to give.

Today she could breathe a little without wondering if he was going to come barrelling around a corner to kiss her or something. Sure, he wasn't in a good mood according to Caroline's text this morning, but he was not bugging me, so there was always that.

Elena opened up her laptop and fired up the Internet. She finally connected it to the hotel Wi-Fi late last night, and now she figured she should check her email. She expected it to be full of the same panicked messages her cell phone was before she threw it in the river in Mystic Falls.

She typed the email server's address and signed in. She hummed quietly to SafetySuit playing on Spotify and skimmed through her unread messages. There was over one hundred, and at first glance, at least half of them were the spammy marketing things companies sent.

There were a few scattered messages from her parents, but it was one from a college friend that caught her eye. She opened April's message.

 _Elena,_

 _I heard the news from Liam's cousin at work. Please tell me you are okay and nothing has happened to you. I'm so worried._

 _XOXO, April_

Elena swallowed, her fingers hovering over the mouse pad. Dammit. She never wanted to worry everyone. She just wanted to be free.

She was okay.

She hit Send and went back to her inbox. There—now April knew, which meant her family would, too, and maybe they would stop with the apparently daily messages.

She never should have checked this email. Caroline had a new one set up for her for a reason, she guessed.

Elena clicked through the little boxes to delete the emails, but one from Liam stopped her. There was no subject line, which meant she should delete it, because he never missed the subject line. He always, always wrote one. And the date stamp was yesterday. And the time stamp was twenty hours ago. With no subject line.

So why did she open the email?

 _Twenty-four hours, Elena. That is what you have to tell me you are on your way back to Richmond and get here. I know exactly where you are, you filthy slut. Shacking up with a boy band? That is low, even for you._

 _Get home so we can end this nonsense and get married. And after, I will break your legs so you can't run from me again. If you don't, I will come to you, and then it will be more than your legs that I break._

Elena slammed the laptop shut and shoved it onto the floor. It bounced before falling flat, but her hands, they were shaking. Her heart was pounding so loudly it was echoing in her ears, blocking out everything else, and her eyes burned.

He knew where she was.

Liam knew.

He knew.

Elena got up so quickly that she almost fell, but she regained her footing with the help of the arm of the sofa. She ran to the door, opened it, and left it to slam behind her as she turned the corner to find the stairs. Her eyes flicked side to side as she flew down them, her arms wrapped around her body, swallowing back nauseating bile.

 _He will find me. And he will hurt me._

 _I can't let him find me,_ Elena thought.

She burst through the Royal Room's door and the guys stopped playing immediately. "Where is security?"

"I don't know—Elena, what is wrong?" Stefan stood up. "Is something wrong?"

Elena shook her head. "No. I just…I need to speak to him."

"Real convincing," Damon growled, standing up. "What is it?"

"Is it Caroline?" Stefan asked.

"I said it is fine!" Elena shouted, retreating from the room. Her shoulders hunched and she curled into herself, her back flattening against the wall.

"Elena," Damon demanded, grabbing her arms. She hadn't even realized he followed her into the hall.

A scream sounded, then Elena realized it was hers, and she was struggling, and he was letting her go.

And then she realized it was Damon, not Liam. And she was okay.

Elena covered her mouth with her hands and looked at him with wide, wet eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Damon's eyes were on hers, confused, angry, conflicted. "Pearl. Find the security now."

"I'm not your damn slave."

"Now!" he roared, never taking his gaze away from Elena. "Elena. Talk to me."

I shake my head, my hands still covering my mouth, all of me trembling.

Damon rubbed his hands down his face, and, when they fell away, the anger was gone from his eyes.

"Elena—" Enzo started from behind him.

Damon held his hand up and walked towards Elena slowly. "Elena," he said softly. She stood deathly still as he approached her, and he stopped right in front of her.

Gently, he wrapped his fingers around hers and pulled her hands from her mouth. Her bottom lip, now free, quivered, and Elena swallowed back a lump in her throat.

"Elena," Damon said just as softly, cupping her face, his fingers rough. "Talk to me. Please."

"He knows where I am." The words were so quiet Elena was not sure she said them. "He knows and he is going to hurt me, Damon."

"Security, now!" he yelled, louder and more harshly than she had ever heard him speak. "Never," he said to her, dropping his forehead against hers, never letting his eyes left hers. "He is never touching you again, Elena. You got that, darling? I don't care if you have to be by my side twenty-four-seven. He is not hurting you!"

"He will. I can't be and he will!"

"Never." The growl in his voice was deep, rumbling, and his fingers tightened against her for a brief second.

Elena gripped the front of his shirt, and Damon held her into his arms, his strong, solid body holding her centred in reality instead of fear.

"I can hear your hollering across the damn hotel, Damon. What's up?"

Elena glanced at Trevor, the head of security from the corner of her tear-filled eyes.

"Elena." He took a deep breath. "Sweetheart, I hope you aren't going to say what I think you are."

"He found me," Elena whimpered.

Quicker than lightning, Trevor pressed something at his ear and hissed orders into it. "In there. Immediately." He pointed at the Royal Room and looked right at Elena.

Elena nodded against Damon's chest and let him pulled her into the room. He led her to the sofas in the far corner and sat down with her. She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip on her and whispered, "Not a chance," into her ear.

Elena didn't have the energy to fight him, to push him away. To make him leave her alone.

Damon made her felt safer than anyone else ever had.

"Pearl, no more practise. Go upstairs and stay there while Caroline comes down," Trevor ordered.

"These guys have to practise, Trevor. I'm here to supervise."

"And this is a family matter," he said firmly. "And when it comes down to anything safety, I don't give a shit if you are the queen of the North Pole, I'm in charge. Caroline needs to be here. All the boys need to be here. My whole damn team needs to be here. You don't. You can be briefed. Now get upstairs."

The room filled with large, burly men all dressed in black, with wires running from their ears to their belts. Pearl opened her mouth to argue, but inevitably turned and walked upstairs.

Not a good week for her.

Elena closed her eyes briefly, and Damon pressed his mouth to the top of her head. He was shaking, too. His arms, so tight around her, were trembling against her in a feeling that was both surreal and confusing. His lips puckered and he dropped a silent kiss to her hair. Her fingers winded tightly into his shirt, because here she felt secure, safe, protected.

Because of him. Because of Damon.

Never mind the twenty giants lining the walls wondering why Trevor just called an emergency meeting.

Damon was her anchor to this world right now.

"Elena. Talk." Trevor met her eyes. "I know it is hard, but we can't help you unless you do, sweetheart."

Elena took a deep breath. "He told me…"

She swallowed.

"He said…"

Damon traced tiny circles on her back.

"He…God!" Elena pushed Damon away and buried her head in her hands.

 _Screw him. Screw Liam Davis so hard. And preferably with an incredibly blunt knife where the sun doesn't shine,_ Elena thought.

"He said he knows that I'm with you and I need to get back to Richmond to marry him so he can break my legs and if I don't then he will find me and break more than my legs." She got up and fisted her hair, avoiding the angry, shocked gazes of the three men of The S.

The fourth, and the strongest, came behind her. His front flattened against her back. His arms circled her stomach. His face buried into her neck.

Caroline exploded, the doors slamming. "I will break his legs before he gets to you!"

"Whoa, firecracker," Trevor said tightly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Leg-breaking is my job."

"Is murder mine?" Damon whispered in her ear.

Elena's lips tugged up, just barely.

"That's mine, too, Romeo," Trevor answered. "Elena, I need this email. I need pictures of this guy. Clear, recent, recognizable pictures. Boys, no man enters this hotel or any establishment Elena is in, without providing a clear, genuine ID. And under no circumstances is she to be left alone at any time of the day. Or night."

"Stefan is moving out," Caroline said brightly. "It will be like an endless slumber party!"

Elena glanced at her, a smile teasing her lips despite the rolling of her stomach.

"No." Damon's voice vibrated through her. "She stays with me."

"Damon…" Caroline warned.

"Your intent is heroic, Caroline, truly, but you can't protect her the way I can." He buried his face in the back of Elena's hair. "None of you can," he added, his voice just loud enough for Elena to hear.

Elena leaned back into him, just a little more. "I can't stay with you!" she protested. "That's absurd."

"It is settled," Trevor interrupted her argument. "Elena stays with Damon. Every time they have to part, for whatever reason, I will shadow her. No arguments." He looked at her on that last word. "And I need that email."

"It is on my laptop," Elena said softly. "In my room."

"Awesome. You are going there to move your stuff anyway." He issued several orders to his team and opened the door. "Shall we?"

Damon let her go for a second before grabbing her hand. His fingers slipped through hers and he tugged her behind him, dropping back a step when he realized Elena was not going to walk as fast as he was. Trevor held the elevator doors open, and she glanced around. Towards the elevator. Towards the stairwell doors.

Damon dragged her into the elevator, and when Trevor shut the door and pushed the button for their floor, Damon cupped her jaw with his finger and thumb.

"Hey," he whispered. "Don't look around like that."

"I—I'm scared," Elena whispered, staring at his knees.

He forced her head back and her eyes to meet his. "I protect what is mine, Elena. And that is you."

Silently, Elena inhaled, staring into his eyes, his fingers warming hers.

"And if you are his," Trevor said, his hand flattening against the side of the elevator door, "then I protect you twice as much."

Elena swallowed, her eyes on the floor as they reached her door. "I locked my key inside," she whispered with a gasp.

"Got it." Damon pulled the spare from his back pocket and slid it into the slot. The door clicked and opened, and Trevor walked in ahead of them, his hand behind him to stop them. He only let them in once he had checked every room and made sure the suite was empty.

"Elena, get your things," Trevor said to her. "And your laptop?"

"On the floor, in front of the sofa." She waved towards it.

"Password?"

Elena laughed quietly. "I wasn't allowed to lock the bathroom door when I peed. What makes you think I had a password on my laptop?"

His jaw tightened. "Email?"

"The password is 'password,' same as all my others." She ducked through into the bedroom and shoved all her things into the suitcase.

This morning her biggest concern was avoiding Damon. Now it was avoiding her ex, and the fact she couldn't avoid Damon. At all. Ever.

After gathering her things from the bathroom, Elena wheeled her suitcase through to the main area, where both Trevor and Damon were sitting in front of my laptop.

Oh no.

"Done." Her voice broke through the silence.

Damon stood, his muscles tensed, and only then did he look at Elena. Blue eyes, blazing, fuming, glaring. But not at her. Softness looked at her. The anger illuminated that, though, and he stalked towards her and closed his hand over hers on the suitcase handle.

"Let's go."

He snatched it and opened her door. Elena glanced back at Trevor, and he nodded, closing the computer and folding it under his arm.

She followed Damon out of the room and down the hall under the security guard's watchful eye. Damon locked the door behind them, even putting the bolt on, and wheeled her suitcase into his room. She eyed the movement cautiously.

"Don't you have a spare bed?"

He came back out and looked at her, his jaw ticking angrily. He moved, quickly, across the room. Grasped her into his arms. Dipped his head to hers. Sealed his mouth over hers.

"I don't need one," Damon murmured to her lips. "You are staying nowhere other than right next to me."

"I don't. Um."

"No, darling, it isn't a good idea, but it is better than the alternative." He brushed his thumb over her cheek, and lowered his mouth to hers.

Unable to fight him, even with fear flowing through her body, Elena grasped his shirt lightly and leaned up into him.

Damon slid one of his hands to her hip and around to her butt, where it lingered, holding her gently. "Elena," he whispered. "Don't be afraid, darling. I don't want you to think of a man's touch and fear his. I want you to think of a man's touch and crave mine."


	11. Chapter 11

Elena took a deep breath and fisted Damon's shirt tighter. "Then don't be gentle," she breathed. "Gentle won't wash him away."

Damon's fingers curled around the back of her neck. "Are you saying what I think you are saying?"

Her lips parted, but she nodded her head. "Replace him with you. Right now."

Elena had no idea—he would replace him, all right. He would replace every damn inch of him in her head, and he would get so under her skin she would forget he ever put bruises there.

Damon brought her face close to his, and hovered his mouth above hers. "Elena, by the time I'm done with you, I swear to God there will be no other guy under your skin but me."

"I'm counting on it."

He crushed his lips to hers. Elena responded in kind, letting go of his shirt to circle her hands around the back of his neck. She was so soft beneath him. Every touch of hers was like the kiss of a feather, and every single one was more addictive than the last.

She leaned toward the sofa, but Damon tugged her toward the bedroom. "Bed," he murmured against her jaw, kissing a trail across her silky skin. "Peasants get quickie on the sofa. Queens get it on a bed."

Elena laughed quietly, but he silenced it with his mouth, pushing her down beneath him. She fell easily, her fingers teasing his hair, her legs bending up.

She grabbed the collar of his shirt and gathered it in her fingers in a clear plea. Damon guided her hands to the hem and she eased it up, her hands brushing his skin beneath it as she pulled it over his head. He did the same to hers, exposing her gorgeous tits wrapped in black lace.

Her fingers tangled in his hair when he cupped her breasts over her bra. Damn, damn, damn—they were more perfect than he had imagined them. When he unclasped her bra and let them free, they were round and perfect.

Damon swirled his tongue down her neck and across the tops of her tits. He cupped one fully and brought her nipple to his mouth. She gasped, arching her back, and he let his tongue tease the pebbled tip again and again until a small moan fell from her lips.

Then he moved and did the exact same thing to the other one.

Elena tugged on his hair hard, and he smiled against her skin. Her legs were parting beneath him, inviting him in. He curled his fingers around the waistband of her shorts and tugged hard, taking her panties with them.

Elena looked at Damon, her eyes wide and shining with arousal, her lips full, and her cheeks blooming with red. Everything about her screamed "Take me." Every. Single. Thing.

He grasped her toned thighs in his hands, parted them, and kissed the inside of one. Her fingers closed around his, but he kissed up her leg. Her heavy breathing shot right through him to his cock. Her heavy, desire-filled breathing.

No fear. Just desire.

For him.

Damon kissed a long, lazy trail up her other leg, and just before he reached her wet, swollen pussy, Elena whispered, "This is kind of gentle."

He responded by closing his mouth over her pussy and rubbing her clit with his tongue violently.

She squeaked a "Take it back," and pushed her hips into him. He ran his tongue all over her, trailing circles around her sensitive clit, tracing long, pressured lines from her opening to the hard ball of nerves.

Elena grabbed at his hands, firmly on her thighs, at his head, buried beneath her legs, at his arms, tensed and ready to hold her hands down so he could bury inside her as hard as she wanted him to.

"Damon," she moaned.

It was too much. He needed her too badly.

Damon yanked his jeans and boxers down and reached for a condom from the nightstand. He rolled it on quickly to the sound of her laboured breathing and leaned over her.

Her fingers slid through his and he held her hands on either side of her head. She looked up with her dark, glossy eyes.

"No gentle," she breathed.

"No gentle," he agreed, his cock at the opening to her pussy. He slid inside her easily, her tight wetness making him groan, hugging him so incredibly. "Elena."

Elena opened her eyes.

"I will take you so hard you won't breathe. I will bury myself so deeply inside you will feel me everywhere, and when you come, it will be so hard you won't be able to make a sound."

She nodded, lips parted, and Damon eased out of her. This time, when he entered her, it was harsher and quicker than before. She gasped with his thrust, and her fingers dug in to his hands.

"Open your legs. Wider," he said into her mouth.

She did

He thrust into her rhythmically, and she writhed beneath me, sweat slicking her skin and his. Their breathing sped until it tangled in the space between their mouths. Her pussy clenched around his cock tighter and tighter until he groaned with the sheer pressure of her pleasure.

Elena wrenched her hands from his and gripped her thighs, holding her legs open and up, and buried her face in his neck. Damon held the back of her head and used his other hand to steady himself.

And he drove into her, faster and faster, until the noises from her mouth became words that made no sense, until her body was a tight ball of pressure beneath him, and until he was wounded so tightly from holding back that he slammed into her in one final burst of desperation.

The strength in her gripping his back accompanied his orgasm. Cum spurted from the end of his dick as she convulsed around him.

"Oh hell," she breathed, dropping her head back onto the bed.

Damon covered her lips with his and stayed inside her, just for a moment longer.

Elena rested her head to the side and closed her eyes, then brought her hand up to cover them. He rested his forehead against hers, adrenaline and pleasure and, finally, calm flooding through his body.

Damon rolled to the side and pulled the condom off, dropping it to the floor by the side of the bed. Elena curled herself into his side and rested her cheek against his chest.

His lips brushed against her forehead, and he wrapped one of his arms around her tiny body.

"I have wondered since I saw you." Her whisper broke the silence, and she traced a hand over the skin on his lower stomach. "The number of girls you have taken to bed."

He smirked. "Heaven is inside my pants."

She jerked her head back and stared at me. "For real?"

Damon grasped her jaw tenderly and gazed right back at her. "You just came so hard you couldn't even scream. Pretty heavenly, if you ask me."

She smiled into his kiss. "Oh God."

"That's it, darling. Say my name."

Elena slapped his chest and laughed. "Arrogance? That is not a very hot name."

"Oh, she is sassy." Damon grinned when she leaned over him. "She is sexy when she is sassy."

Elena's lips curve to the sides, her dark hair falling around their faces. "She is happy when she is sassy." She hovered her hand above his jaw before she lowered it. The backs of her fingertips trail along the roughly stubbled curve. "She is sassy when she is safe," she finished in the tiniest whisper he had ever heard.

"Elena," Damon muttered back, threading his fingers through the back of her hair and pulling her in for a long, slow kiss that left no doubt to her last sentence.

x x x

"Pepperoni or chicken tikka?"

"Nachos."

"You cannot live off nachos."

"Can too." Elena nodded, curled in a corner of the sofa. "There's meat, carbs, vegetables, and wine totally counts as sugars."

"Elena, you want meat, I can give you meat."

A cushion came flying at Damon's face. He ducked to avoid it.

"Gross!"

"You didn't think it was gross when it was inside you earlier."

"It was a whole lot sexier then."

"Are you calling me sexy?"

"No. Not you. Your penis."

He raised an eyebrow. "You can say dick, you know. I promise I won't mind."

"I don't…Um."

"Say it. Dick. Or cock. One of them."

She sighed impatiently. "Cock. There—are you happy?"

"Almost…" Damon dropped onto the sofa next to her. "Now say 'shit.' "

"What?" She frowned.

"I have never heard you say shit or fuck."

"So what? Not everyone has to, you know?"

"I know. But I just want you to say it. For shits and giggles."

"Damon." Her lips twisted to the side. "Don't be so dumb."

"I'm not. Look. Shit." Damon said it slowly, exaggerating the movement of his lips. "You say it. It feels so wonderful."

"Can you just order my nachos?"

"Say the word." He leaned over her.

"Nachos."

"Say 'shit'."

Her gorgeous brown doe eyes narrowed. "Nachos!"

"Elena."

"Shit!" she snapped. "There! Shit. You are trying to make me mad."

"That's great." He grinned.

"Yeah, well now I have none left to give until I get my nachos."

"You know," He backed up, laughing, "we could meet everyone for dinner downstairs. The reservation is in five minutes."

Elena glanced towards the door, then back at Damon. "I don't. I mean."

"You say you are afraid and I'm going to have to make love to you again." He grabbed her hands and pulled her up. "Remind me who is under your skin?"

"You," she murmured. "But he…nags at me."

"Then I will nag him right out." Damon kissed her forehead. "Fear nothing. Isn't that what I have heard you whispering to yourself a thousand times?"

"You heard that?" Elena looked up at him, eyes wide.

"I heard everything you never thought you said," he replied, brushing her hair from her face. "And I listened to every word. So, dinner downstairs?"

She studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing with confusion. She scrutinized every inch of his face, before she nodded slowly. "Dinner downstairs."

Elena pushed some hair from her face and sat down next to Caroline, who eyed her over the top of her wineglass. Caroline's green eyes flicked between Damon and Elena, and when Damon raised his eyebrows, she grinned.

"So, you convinced her to stay with you."

"He didn't so much convince me as force me," Elena muttered, reaching for the glass of wine Enzo poured her. "Thank you."

"So I could convince you to stay with me?" Enzo winked.

Damon stared at him stonily, and his face broke into a grin when he met Damon's eyes.

"Well, Damon's look answers that," Alaric laughed. "So how did he convince you to stay with him?"

Elena choked on her wine and set the glass down, banging her fist into her chest. Damon reached over and patted her back as she mumbled some unintelligible answer through her coughs.

"Sorry, Elena. I didn't get that. Did you just swear?"

"Enough," Damon snapped at Alaric. "Don't talk to her that way."

"That is a yes," Stefan added.

"Stefan Salvatore you stay the hell out of this," Caroline warned.

"Yes, madam."

"And you two," she turned on Enzo and Alaric. "It is none of your business how Damon convinced her to stay with him, and you all should be ashamed of yourselves for embarrassing Elena."

"You are right," Alaric and Enzo said simultaneously. "Sorry, Elena."

Elena blinked. "Um. It is okay." She leaned into Damon. "That is freaky."

"Try growing up with it," Damon muttered back.

"Just don't do a Caroline and Stefan," Enzo added, not so helpfully.

"Seriously?" Caroline and Elena said. Elena's eyes darted to her before she continued, "Is your sex life lacking, Enzo? Because as the band's assistant, it is my job to make sure you all are happy. I can find you someone to fill that hole, if you'd like."

"I do the hole-filling, Elena."

"Then I' will find you a hole to fill, but it isn't going to fill the one you have got. That can only be filled by a girl," Elena remarked, taking hold of her wineglass and tilting it towards him a little. "Say 'now' and I can call before my nachos get here."

"Crap nachos," Damon muttered.

"Shut your ass up, Mr Salvatore," she retorted smartly. "Well, Enzo?"

"Did she just swear?" Enzo interjected. "That is the closest to cursing I have ever heard her say."

"She said 'shit' earlier," Damon interjected. "Several times."

"I bet she did," Stefan sniggered.

"Shut it, Stefan, or you will be getting the damn word," Caroline growled.

Stefan mimed zipping his lips like the pussy-whipped bitch he was.

"Shit," Elena said sharply. "There you go. Shit. Fancy-pants girl from Richmond can swear. Shit, ass. Are we happy now?"

Damon groaned and rested his forehead on top of her shoulder. "I think you just made me hard."

"Damon!" she squealed. "Shut up!"

Caroline snorted and disguised it with her wineglass. "Seems like Damon Salvatore can keep promises after all."

"I thought you told me to shut up!" Stefan moaned.

"Oh, stop it!" Caroline swatted his arm and turns to Elena, ignoring Damon's smirking lips. "Ignore me, doll. I'm not teasing you, just Damon. But, well, I'm just glad the boom-boom-pow thing you all had going on finally boom-boom-powed."

Elena sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and looked down at her lap.

"Caroline," Alaric complained. "Why did you upset her?"

Elena's shoulders shook.

"Elena? Are you alright, darling?" Damon touched her arm.

A tiny giggle fell from her lips, and she looked up, her hand covering her mouth. She focused on Caroline, still giggling, and said, "Boom-boom-powed?"

Caroline scratched her upper lip and laughed into her palm. "Well, you know. It was supposed to be an insinuation."

"Insinuated plenty," Damon mumbled into his beer bottle. "And correctly."

"Damon!" both women shrieked.

Damon earned himself a slap on each thigh. At least they were courteous enough to miss the beer, the little shits.

"And there we go." Alaric flagged the waiter and ordered another round. "The confirmation of what we all knew."

"You know, Alaric, I can easily pencil in a walk over hot coals for you tomorrow." Elena smiled sweetly.

"LEGOs," Caroline added. "More painful. Way more painful."

"I will pencil in both." Elena fluttered her eyelashes, still looking at Alaric. "Or do you need a night-time snuggle buddy as well as Enzo?"

Damon smiled. He loved it when Elena turned on that sass. It was the girl beneath the hardened, fear-filled exterior. It was the girl who pulled him into another dimension and made him smile, laugh.

It was the girl who made him dream. And he hadn't done that since the day they stepped into their first arena performance.

Elena Gilbert was the dream Damon never knew existed.

"Damn." Enzo shook his head. "You have spent too much time with Damon."

Damon wrapped his arm around her waist and touched his nose to her temple. "Not nearly enough."

"Oh, nachos!" Elena sat upright, yanking her body from his grip.

Damon covered his face with his hands. "Nachos. Damn nachos."

Elena scooped a huge pile of chili onto one slightly curled chip and offered it to him. He opened his mouth, and she guided it towards him before evilly turning it and shoving it in her mouth.

"Naughty girl."

She smiled a wide closed-mouth smile as a steak was put in front of Damon.

"You should have gotten the nachos." Elena shook her head.

Damon leaned over and grabbed hers. "You think?"

x x x

He was…warm. He was warm and soft and solid all at the same time.

His chiselled stomach was against her back, his pecs teasing her shoulder blades, and her back was fully curled into him. Or against him, whatever it was. One of his arms was resting beneath her neck and bent so his hand was shaped around her waist. His other arm was draped over her and reaching up to where their fingers were linked.

Holy crap, this was how those cheesy-ass couples woke up in romance novels.

Wait—why was she awake?

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Holy hell," Damon groaned sleepily. Huskily. Sexily.

"Concert-day alarm," Elena muttered, untangling her fingers from his and reaching for her phone on the nightstand. She swiped the screen and the beeping stopped, then she froze. "Oh my God! Concert-day alarm!" She squealed, rolling over to face him.

"What?"

"Concert day!" Elena shook his shoulders until his startling bright eyes opened and looked up at her. "I love concert day!"

Damon's lips curled up slowly. "You have only experienced one, darling."

"I don't care. I loved it. And another is today! Wake up!" Elena grabbed his shoulders again, but he grasped her waist and flipped her onto my back. She half-laughed, half-shrieked as Damon rolled them and straddled them.

"Mmm. I like this wake-up call," he hummed, lowering his face to hers. "Can I get it often?"

"Depends. You going to be bored of me tonight?"

"Never." His hot breath cascaded over her lips with the force of the conviction tinting his word. "Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever," he whispered. "You are going to scream my name tonight, Elena?"

"You are going to scream mine?"

"Elena, I don't scream names."

"Then, no. I'm not." Elena tapped his nose. "Name-screaming goes two ways, Damon."

"You should consider adopting a pet name for me. It feels like you are telling' me off when you call me Damon."

"I am not calling you God."

Damon laughed and dropped his face into her neck. "You got me figured out, darling."

"Sassy woman, sassy mind." Elena ran her fingers through his hair and grinned when he looked at her. "You need to get up." She glanced at the clock on her phone. "Damn, I need to get up."

She shoved at him to get him off her, but he simply grinned above her.

"Damon," she warned.

Damon ignored her, instead lowering his mouth to hers. Elena whimpered as his lips touched hers, and the soft heat made her curved her fingers around the back of his head. His hands on her back were hot, but his kiss was hotter, his lips sweet and soft but dry, his tongue flicking against hers, begging for her to open, to give him more.

She did.

She fell prey to his predatory kiss, and she submitted to the force of his will, allowing him to sweep his tongue through to a battle with her own.

His fingertips caressed her skin sweetly while his mouth attacked hers ravenously. It was the perfect mixture of reticence and recklessness, and so very Damon, so very her, so very them, so very everything she needed right now.

"Still got to go," Elena murmured into his kiss.

"We can be late. Right?" He mumbled the words against her jaw, and despite her back arching, she shook her head. "Your body appears to be disagreeing."

"My body needs a slap." Elena tapped the back of his head and wriggled so much he groaned.

"Dammit, Elena, that isn't helping, darling."

"Then get off!" She laughed, trying to ignore the clenching and the obvious wetness pooling in her panties. Because, yes, she did absolutely just rub her pussy against his hard dick.

"Shit, okay. But you owe me for this boner."

Elena laughed loudly as Damon stood, his erection delightfully obvious in his tight boxers. Her eyes lingered at the bulge protruding from between his thighs, and she unwillingly licked her lips.

"Like what you see, darling?"

She combed her eyes upward, slowly. Over the smooth skin above his waistband, to the packed muscles of his stomach, to his upper chest, his shoulders and his arms.

Then to his eyes. Her eyes fell on his eyes, and Elena was paralyzed by the brightness and the intensity.

"It is not bad," she managed, swallowing hard.

"Not bad?" Damon asked, leaning against the doorway to the bathroom. Slowly. Seductively. All boner in his boxers and six pack tensed and biceps bulging. Deliberately.

That was the word. Deliberately.

"Not bad," Elena confirmed, her eyes flicking to his lips and back up. "I mean, you know."

"Seen better?"

"Shouldn't ask your assistant that. She has seen all your team members shirtless."

Damon darted back across the room and pinned her hands above her head before she did so much as protest his sharp jump onto the bed. "You have what?"

"Seen your other team members shirtless," Elena repeated, staring into those fiery eyes.

His fingers tightened on hers. "Who hasn't?" Damon growled, ironically softly. "But get this, Elena. The only one of us you will see naked is me. The only one you will feel inside you is me. The only one who will make you scream, silently or otherwise, is me. You got that?"

"Got it," she hummed quietly. "It is okay. You are sexier anyway."

"Oh, the confidence to admit I'm sexy."

"I said sexier. Don't get cocky."

Damon dug his hips into hers. His cock pushed into her pussy, teasing her clit, and she clenched. "Too late."

Her phone beeped again, an excruciatingly painful noise. And Elena grabbed it, ended it, and shoved it into Damon's face.

"Up. Now. Off. Later."

"Is that a promise?"

"You are going to keep it?" Elena asked, sitting up.

"Elena, I'm making it. Tonight you are mine. Again."

They bundled into the SUVs. The whole time to the venue, Alaric eyed them suspiciously, but Damon grabbed her hand and Alaric looked away. Seconds later, Elena pulled her hand back, because, they were working. And she knew it made no sense, that she would have sex off duty but that on duty she wouldn't touch him.

For Elena, it helped separate the two Damon she knew…almost. The asshole and the nice guy. Helped separate the womaniser from the man who held her tightly and wouldn't let her go.

It helped to separate the guy she couldn't trust from the one she could.

Elena could feel Damon's eyes burning into the side of her head as they parked outside the arena. Questioning. Confused. But she ignored him and followed Alaric out of the SUV. She ducked her head as the cameras flashed and girls screamed.

It seriously perplexed her how they could stand here for hours just to see the guys. Like, they couldn't wait until they got inside the arena in eight or nine hours?

Trevor opened the door for her and she darted inside. Phew. Stefan guided Caroline into the building, flanked by the rest of the band. Damon's eyes were still burning into her, and Elena did her best to escape past him, but he grabbed her hand before she could get away.

She attempted to snatch her hand back, but he squeezed tighter. She tugged harder and he let go.

"Working," Elena whispered angrily, clasping the tablet to her chest and walking away.

"It isn't a secret, darling," Damon called after her.

"I don't care." She stopped and looked at him, ignoring everyone's eyes on them. "You need to get into your dressing rooms and get ready to come down here for sound check. Now," she added, glancing over all four of them.

"Damn, you are a slave driver," Enzo said, grinning.

"I will drive my boot up your behind if you don't move it," Elena threatened, spinning and walking away.

"Shit, Damon. You have rubbed off on her a little too much." Alaric laughed.

"I have two feet, Alaric." Elena threw a glare over her shoulder and slammed open the door to the backstage area. She kicked it shut behind her and walked through the hall to the wings. She checked to see that all their things were being readied on the stage, then jumped down and took a seat in the first row.

"They don't mean you any harm," Trevor said, taking the seat next to mine.

"Mmm," She replied, swiping across the screen of her tablet. "Unfortunately none of them are aware of the concept of lines, therefore they cross them regularly."

"Like Damon trying to hold your hand?" Caroline said as she sat next to Elena.

"Precisely."

"Yet last night he was stealing your nachos, and you woke up together this morning."

"This is work." Elena sighed and put the tablet down. "We both have jobs to do. When we leave here—if he leaves with us—then he can do whatever the hell he wants to do. Right now he has to remain professional."

"If he leaves with us?" Trevor questioned, leaning forward. "Elena, you do know he isn't going to let you out of his sight, don't you, sweetheart?"

"Yeah." Caroline nibbled on her thumbnail. "I mean, even I'm surprised. The only thing Damon cares about as much as you is his dick."

Elena sighed and turned back to the tablet. "Look, I'm not expecting anything from him. I'm not expecting his super-protective-alpha-male routine to be anything other than kindness, so can we move on now?"

"If you want." Caroline leaned back. "But it isn't going to change a thing. I know you aren't used to tenderness, but take it, doll. He is the hardest idiot I have ever met in my life, but he is also one of the sweetest. He isn't made of heartless steel."

"Oh. Nice."

Other people filter into the arena. When everyone was in their proper place, the guys stepped onto the stage, water bottles in hand.

Alaric, Enzo and Stefan all checked on their instruments before they started, but Damon kept walking. He stepped right off the stage and approached Elena, his eyes burning brightly.

He stopped right in front of her and laid two fingers on the top of the tablet. Slowly, he pushed it down so it was flat on her lap, then stroke along the side of it until he found the power button. Then pressed it.

"Not today," Damon said softly.

Elena's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he pulled the device from her hands and gave it to Trevor, who slotted it into Caroline's purse. Elena glanced at the burly security guard, but all he did was lift his eyebrows in response and folded his arms across his chest.

Damon's hands curled around her armrests and he leaned forward. "Today, Elena, you watch for fun."

Elena said nothing. Even as he walked back toward the stage and pulled himself up onto it, she stayed silent. Even as he walked across the stage to his seat and sat down, resting his guitar on his knee and looking at her, she stayed silent.

She didn't say a word.

Because this…wasn't meant to happen. She was supposed to work. She was supposed to organize their butts and keep them in line.

Damon's lips pulled up at the sides, only barely, and the memory of his lips on hers flooded her mind. The softness, the forceful yet oddly soft caresses, they consumed her, took her over.

And Elena sat back in her seat and hugged herself.

"Well, Pearl, honey, aren't you looking good today?" Damon drawled, still looking at Elena.

"Always do, Damon," Pearl retorted, seemingly not recognizing his eyes on Elena.

Jerk.

"You look really good today. That shirt is damn good. Oh, and I see you brought Ivy with you!"

Asshole.

Elena looked towards the girl Damon called Ivy and saw a girl, indeed with huge breasts, and long blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a waist that she could wrap her hands around. A body clearly surgically enhanced.

"Always a pleasure, Damon," Ivy crooned, sitting a couple seats up from Caroline and crossing her legs. She ran her hand through her hair, and when Damon looked at her, Elena's eyes narrowed.

Caroline reached over, grasped her chin, and forced her to look forward. "You hurt him. He is trying to do it back because he is a moron. Act like you don't care and he will give it up."

Elena swallowed hard. "I don't care."

"I don't believe you, doll."

Electric. Crazy. Insane.

Three words to describe the pandemonium in the arena right now. Screaming girls, laughing, singing The S, amazed backstage people.

Caroline and Elena were standing in the wings, feet away from the guys, and Elena was almost certain her ears were ringing from the screams echoing from the seats. Because, holy hell, Damon was right when he said she had only seen one show. These girls screamed crazy loud.

But she still got it. The excitement of the last concert. The craziness. The goddamn deafening shrieks. The everlasting adrenaline rush that filled her veins with extreme delight and insanity.

It boiled inside her and encompassed her until she was buzzing, too. Until every word and every chord was vibrating across her skin and consuming her with its sheer force.

The S strummed their final chord and the lights dimmed. The arena erupted. Screams. Claps. Whistles. Yells. It was a wonder Elena could tell one from the other, and the curtains closing were a welcome reprieve from the intense schedule of tonight. Water, clothing changes, water, song changes, water, damp cloths, changes…

Damon put his guitar down and met her eyes in the darkness. Elena was mad at him—hell, she was mad at him for his dumbass stunt earlier. She had annoyed him, okay. But that didn't give him the right to annoy her back. It didn't make it okay.

She was being professional. He was being a royal dickhead.

Damon walked towards her, each step powerful. She moved back, but he was quicker than her. He wrapped his arms around her, leaving one hand clasping the back of her head and the other falling between her shoulder blades. He was strong and determined, the smell of sweat and cinnamon enveloped her, and Elena got a brief glimpse of his fiery eyes before he pressed his mouth against hers. And he, God, he forced his mouth onto hers deliciously. The force of his kiss knocked her back, and she had forgotten that they were surrounded by people, that eyes were on them.

All Elena could think of was this mouth sweeping across hers, his lips making hers come alive in the best kind of way.

All she could think of was his fingers splaying across her body at various points, the tips digging in, burning her, branding her, delighting her.

Damon pulled back and she breathed in harshly. "Damn," he whispered roughly, releasing her and walking past her. He doubled back almost as quickly, grabbed her hand, and tugged her after him.

Elena stumbled with the force of his tug, but Trevor was hot on their heels and helped her to steady herself with a quick touch to her upper back. Her heart was thumping as the doors opened and they were assaulted by bright camera flashes and a roaring scream.

Damon let her go to Trevor's side and moved to the girls clambering over the waist-high barriers for his attention. Elena swallowed hard, her mind flashing with memory after memory as girls wrapped their arms around him and he leaned in close for pictures.

For too long, she watched someone who claimed to want her all to himself hit on girls. For too long, she was second best. For too long, she was worth the dog crap she stepped in in Central Park.

For too long, she had fear inbred into her, burned so deeply that she would swear it was burned into her soul. Mentally, emotionally, or physically, it didn't matter. Pain was pain—some kinds were just more visible than others.

And right now, Damon was hurting her. He didn't know it, and Elena shouldn't let it hurt, but she couldn't fight the sliver of pain that mixed with the heavy pounding of blood through her veins.

"Take me back," she begged Trevor, turning and taking his arm. "Please. To the hotel. Take me back."

"Elena, sweetheart…"

"Trevor, please."

He sighed. "I can't take you anywhere unless Damon tells me to go with you."

Elena took a deep breath and stepped away from him. Her feet took her to Damon, where she grabbed his arm and told him, "I'm going back. I have things to do."

Damon blinked at her harshly and, without looking at the fans, handed one back her pen and turned Elena by her shoulders. "Sorry, ladies. Got to go."

He urged her to the SUV, and Trevor opened the door. Damon grabbed her and lifted her in, and when the door slammed, Elena turned away from him. Her arms curled around her waist, her stomach twisting. The harsh pounding of her heartbeat fizzled out to a slow throb as she centred herself.

She was not being beaten up or cheated on. She was not being used and abused.

Not anymore.

She was not that girl.

Elena was not that girl.

She was Elena Gilbert.

She feared nothing.

Neither of them said a word as they travelled back to the hotel. The air was tense and it made it hard to breathe, but it was not a fearful tension. When they arrived, Elena unclipped her seat belt and shoved the door open before anyone else was out. She put every ounce of remaining strength in her body into not sprinting into the hotel and demanding a room to herself.

Damon put a hand on her back, but she shoved it off. He said nothing, but the sigh that left him said everything.

Elena jabbed at the elevator buttons and fought the burn in her eyes. Hell no, she was not going to cry. She swore when she drove away from Richmond that no other man would ever get her tears.

Damon unlocked the door and she shoved past him and threw her purse onto the sofa. "What the hell was that?"

"Was what?" he asked, shutting the door behind him.

"That goddamn kiss!" Elena pointed at him. "You spend the morning chatting up Pearl and Ivy, ignore me all afternoon, then you walk off the stage and you kiss me! What the hell kind of bullshit game are you playing?"

"Yours," Damon growled, advancing towards her. "The one where we are intimate privately but strangers publicly."

"We are professional publicly!"

"You wish!" he snapped, winding his fingers into her hair and holding her solidly against him. "You want me to forget how you taste? How you feel? How you moan into my mouth when your pussy is hugging my cock? You think I can wipe everything from my memory, Elena? Because I can't. Not for a second. And for some goddamn reason you are more than every girl I have ever brought back to my room. I told you I would get under your skin, but that was before I realized you are so under my skin that nothing, and I mean nothing, is getting you back out."

Elena squeezed her eyes shut. "How long?" she ewhispedr. "How long do I have before a random girl comes knocking at your door?"

"What?"

"How long?" She pushed at his grip and he loosened it. "It happens, Damon. It always happens. It happened before and…Damn!" she took advantage of his eased hold on her arm and stepped back. "I saw it," her voice was quieter. "Back there. You love it. You thrive on it. The girls. The attention. What happens when I can't give you that anymore? What happens when they are newer and shinier and prettier than I am? They take over. Just like before."

"Elena." Damon came to her and took her in his arms once more. "I'm not him, darling. I'm not that asshole and I never will be. I say you are mine, then you are mine, and it stays that way."

"What if it doesn't?"

"Forever." He almost growled the word, each syllable sharp and fierce. "Forever. No one is coming here except you."


	12. Chapter 12

Elena crushed her lips against his. Like a reflex, her tongue flicked against his and incited an intense fight. His grip got tighter and her hands grasped at his shirt and their bodies slammed together in a desperate collision. Together, they manoeuvre their way towards the bedroom, fingers tugging at shirt hems, lips sweeping irrationally. Together, they pushed through his bedroom door and collapsed onto the giant unmade bed.

"Mine," Damon whispered. "You are mine, Elena. In the most protective, possessive way, you belong the hell to me."

Elena swallowed her gasp and wrapped her legs around his waist. She didn't care. She didn't care if they were being waited on downstairs or if the past was clouding things. She cared about touching this man, feeling this man, becoming one with this man. Even if it was only for minutes. She wanted to feel it. She needed to feel it.

She needed his words to be proven by his actions.

Damon's hands roamed over her body, beneath her shirt, pulling it over her head, to her bra, cupping her breasts. His mouth ghosted down her neck to her cleavage. He unclasped her bra, taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. His tongue swirled and spin around the hardened bud, and Elena grasped at him harder, begging for more despite the endless painful pleasure.

She tucked her hands beneath his shirt and ran them up his back. The material crumpled and she tugged his shirt over his head, desperate to feel his body against hers. She needed to feel his skin pressing hers like the night needed the day and the dark needed the light. Like touch needed reciprocation, she needed Damon's unabashed physique moulded against hers.

Her hands took on a mind of their own. They roamed and explored every crevice of his back and his stomach. Her fingertips dipped and curved into every deep, muscled canyon of his body.

In return, Damon swiped his hands across hers, every touch igniting fireworks and explosions across her skin and in her bloodstream. His hands cupped, massages, probed every part of her. His fingers teased along the waistband of her pants.

Her hands. They teased his hand, too. And here hands, they unbuttoned his jeans, undo the zipper, and tugged down the cotton. she brushed her fingertips along his rock-hard length and revelled in the bobbing of it in her loose grip. She revelled in the hardness of his cock in her hand and in the firmness of his grip on her.

And Damon removed her pants and tugged her legs up. He slid inside her in one long, easy stroke. He filled her entirely and completely and quickly. She conformed to his body in the only way she knew how. Explicitly. Entirely. Wholly.

His thrusts were fast and powerful. Each one dominated her and Elena gave herself over to his determination. She gave herself over to his powerful touch and hot breath and harsh moans as he drove into her.

She gave herself over to him.

Pleasure flooded her nerves. Heat swamped her skin. Adrenaline pounded through her veins. Every second, every touch, every sensation, she breathed it all in and she let herself go crazily.

Elena let herself go in his arms.

Her name, whispered, followed his deep and drawn-out groan. She folded herself into him despite the fact that he was still very much inside me, and he wrapped his arms around her. His hold was warm and firm, and Elena buried herself in the certainty of his embrace.

"Mine." The word was whispered onto the top of her head. "I told you," Damon breathed. "Mine. Always mine, Elena"

"I think so," Elena whispered back, curling herself around him, koala-style. Gripping him. Embracing him.

"I know so." Hot, gentle breaths cascaded across her skin, and she moved into him farther. "My Elena. My darling. My girl."

Elena held him, the lump in her throat too much to process.

How could someone want her so much? How could he want her so much that he could proclaim me his for more than just possessiveness? How could Damon want her in such a way that he was willing to let her fight and resist until she was helpless to the irresistible pull, too?

How could he want her the way he does, full stop?

"Why?"

"What?"

Elena's fingers ghosted across his chest. "Why am I yours? I don't understand."

Damon cupped the side of her head, slowly, his fingers easing across her cheek. "Because you are you," he whispered, his mouth but an inch from hers. "Because you are beautiful, and you are sweet, and you are so strong I can't stand it. After everything, you are so solid it breaks my heart, Elena. Because you are the best damn person I have ever met. That is why. That is why you are damn well mine."

She held him, so tightly she could almost break his bones. "I'm afraid."

"Don't be," he murmured.

x x x

Damon wished he knew what the hell it was about her. He wished he knew for a single damn second what it was about Elena Gilbert that messed him up in the best kind of way. He wished he knew how the hell she could look into his eyes and make him different. How she made him stronger, gentler, more understanding.

He wished he knew how she could touch him with her soft hands and crack into the hard exterior his life required. She didn't only crack it—she slipped her painted nails between the broken edges until her fingertips were gripping them, and then she ripped them apart, exposing the guy inside. Exposing the guy that was as real as it came.

She exposed the protector, the lover, the dreamer.

She exposed the guy hidden from all the other girls.

Damon wished he knew how the hell she made a dream come to life when he didn't even know it existed. How she took his notion of a dream and twisted it until he looked back and realized it was never entirely fulfilled.

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" Damon glanced up from the tablet and at Elena sitting cross-legged on the other sofa of the tour bus. "The sex tape? We already went over that, darling, I didn't know about it."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not talking about the sex tape, Tate. I'm talking about the flirty, the women…and the sex."

"Did you just willingly curse?"

"Sex isn't really a curse word," she replied hesitantly.

"It is a curse word." Enzo dropped onto the seat next to her.

"And you screamed at me last night. Something about 'sex' and 'bullshit games,' " Damon reminded her.

"Ahh, words you have heard often, buddy." Alaric smacked Damon's shoulder and grabbed the back of the chair when the bus turned a corner.

"Which brings me back to my original question," Elena muttered. "Why does every conversation have to go off on a tangent with you all?"

"Next we are going to get her to you all." Alaric grinned, looking at Damon and Enzo.

"Oh, yeah," Enzo agreed. "It is so close I can taste it."

Damon groaned. "No. Elena isn't allowed to you all. She said 'bless your heart, sugar' and I was hard for a week. I don't think I could cope with you all."

Elena grins, her eyes shining with sass. "Poor baby. I'm sure there was someone there to soften it back up. And there we go again." She smacked her hand to her forehead. "I give up trying to talk to you guys."

"I'm sorry, darling, you are just distracting." Damon nudged her foot with mine under the table. "What was it you wanted to know?"

She twisted her lips to the side. "I think I forgot."

"Something about flirting and sex," Enzo prompted cheerily.

"Oh! Of course." She spin her water bottle between her hands. "Why do you guys like to flirt so much?"

Alaric choked on his soda, and Damon laughed. "Well, come right on out with it why don't you?"

"I did." She stared at Damon flatly. "Don't laugh!" She threw the cap for her water at Alaric. "I'm being serious!"

"We am not good with serious," Damon reminded her. "Well, buddies? Why are you such bastards?"

Elena pressed her fingertips to her mouth to hide her smile.

"Us?" Alaric laughed. "Says Mr. Sold a Threesome Story, Mr. Nailed Molly Peters Before She Got Famous, and Mr. Secret Sex Tape."

Damon hit him with a sharp gaze as Elena chewed the inside of her lip. "All in the past, Alaric. Way in the damn past. And two of those things weren't even my fault."

"You sold a threesome story?" Elena asked softly.

"I didn't sell a thing!" Damon snapped. "I took a couple chicks back to my room and one turned out to be a legitimate whore who got paid to sleep with famous people and sell the story."

"Oh." Her voice was small. "Well, that's…unfortunate."

Unfortunate? Was she kidding? Oh, no, she wasn't—she was looking at her fingers clasped around her water bottle and playing with the label because she had just realized she had slept with another total bastard.

Elena knew it already. Hell, she spelled out to him all the ways he was a royal dickhead without actually calling him one. Now that she was getting it shoved in her face, though, it was different.

Because the guy that did all that crap in the past wasn't the guy that touched her, kissed her. He wasn't the guy that made love to her soft and hard all in the same minute, and he sure wasn't the guy that wiped her tears and held her through the night.

He wasn't the guy that kept her midnight screams to himself just so she didn't have another thing to fear, because God only knew she had got enough.

Damon gave Alaric and Enzo a stern look, and they hot up. Alaric mouthed an apology, but Damon ignored him. They moved to the back of the bus, their eyes flicking to him and away hesitantly.

Damon scooted along the seat. "Elena."

"What?"

His fingers reached out and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. "Talk to me, Elena."

"Why? I have nothing to say." She swallowed.

"Then look at me."

A beat passed before Elena slowly turned her eyes from the label to his gaze. She didn't stop picking at the damn label, though, so Damon closed his hand around hers. She took a long, deep breath and fought to keep her eyes on him.

"Now I sure don't believe you. What is wrong?"

"Your…past." She blinked and looked away. "It is…different from mine. Really different. Maybe I didn't realize it until just now."

"And it doesn't matter," Damon told her quietly, running his fingers through her hair. "You want to know why I acted that way?"

"Yes. No. I guess."

His lips tugged into a small smirk. "Because girls aren't all like you, Elena. The girls I took back to the hotel regularly, the ones who stood and screamed my name and made it clear I could have them with no strings attached, they are looking for a few things, and they aren't good. Money. Hook-up. Their picture in the paper. Fame. To be the one that bagged the reckless rock star."

"So why didn't they?"

"Because," Damon slid his thumb across her cheek and turned her face towards him. "Because they didn't know what they were asking for, and I wasn't about to give them anything but their desired hook-up. If a girl is going to get her picture in the paper with me and my money, it is because she wants me, not my status. Understand that?"

Elena nodded slowly. "It makes sense. I just don't understand why you had to be so…wild…about it."

He grinned crookedly. "I'm a wild kind of guy. If you are going to do something gently, don't bother doing it all, because you aren't doing it right."

Elena tilted her head to the side and her lips teased up at the edges. "That's some life motto."

"You weren't criticizing it last night," he murmured so low only she could hear. She gasped, blood filling her cheeks, and he laughed, closing the distance between their mouths. With his fingers tangled in the back of her hair, Damon swept his lips across hers, the sugary taste of candy lingering on the softness.

"You can't kiss me here," she protested against him.

"I'm the boss and I make the rules and I say I can kiss you wherever I like." He grinned into the kiss, and she fought it, but she couldn't, because she smiled, too, and he pulled her into him. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and he brushed his nose against her silky hair.

x x x

"Right," Damon grumbled. "First night in New Orleans after hours on the road. It would be easier if we could fly."

"Oh, poor thing. But flying will cost a lot more."

"Would you have come with me?" Damon glanced at Elena over her shoulder and picked up the room phone. He reeled off an order for some beer and a bottle of wine.

"Given that I'm your fifth limb for the foreseeable future, I don't understand the question." Her words were sharp, and bitter, and if they were physical things, they would be made of ice-cold steel.

His shoulders dropped a little. "Elena…"

"Don't 'Elena' me like that, Damon." She sighed and looked away. "I know, I get it, it is for my own protection, but, sheesh. I'm okay in the hotel, aren't I? I mean, isn't that why we sat in the parking lot for almost an hour while Trevor went into the hotel and broke more than a few privacy laws?"

"Sssh, you don't know who is listening."

"Oh, yeah." She tipped her head back so she was staring at the ceiling. "Don't worry, God, I will make sure Trevor goes to confession this week so you can redeem him from his sins."

He laughed loudly and leaned against the counter. "I'm sure God appreciates the effort, Elena. You are going to send me, too, darling?"

She dropped her head forward and stared at him through her eyelashes. "Damon, I'm not the goddamn pope."

Another laugh left Damon at the knock on the door. He opened it and collected the tray with the beer and a wineglass on it, plus the ice bucket with the wine bottle inside.

"Correct. But you are a saint for dealing with my crazy-ass team."

"For dealing with you, you mean."

"Hey, I'm a dream. Easy as hell to live with."

Elena took the glass he passed her with a snort. "Right. Now I suddenly am the pope. And quite possibly the queen of England."

Damon uncapped a beer bottle and dropped onto the sofa next to her, resting his arm over her shoulders. "Who wants to be the queen of England? You are like the queen of The S, and that is the most royal anyone can get."

She rolled her dark eyes and attempted to hide her twitching lips behind her glass. Unfortunately for her, the glass was see-through. "I don't see a crown."

"Darling, we are in New Orleans. You want a crown? I will find you a crown."

"Condom crowns don't count."

Damon's mouth teased into a smirk. "Damn. Back to my drawing board."

"If you can draw anything beyond a stick man and/or a penis, I will be very impressed."

"Blow job kind of impressed?"

"Damon." Elena rested a hand on his thigh softly. "Can you draw anything other than a stick man or a penis?"

Damon ran his tongue over his lips slowly and deliberately and grinned when her eyes flicked down. "I can probably draw a flower with five petals."

"You want a blow job, then it looks like you have got to get yourself art lessons."

"Damn. Should have known." He shook his head and clasped his bottle between his thighs so he could grab the remote. No sooner had he pressed the Power button then Elena had stolen it, changed the channel to TV Land, and there was three hours of Friends blinking at him on the guide.

"Are you kidding me? Friends?"

"Yeah, you got a problem with that?" Elena looked at him challengingly.

"Damn. Can you stop talking? Your attitude is turning me on."

"You are an idiot."

"Not helping."

She knocked the remote onto his thigh gently. "Damon!"

"See, now I have got a boner and I'm thinking about you under me, very naked, saying my name that way."

"Damon—shut up!" she squeaked, dropping the control and holding one hand and her wineglass up between them. "Wait. Crap." She put the glass down on the table.

"What are you doing?"

"You have got that look in your eyes," she explained, waggling a finger in case her words weren't clear. "It is that one that says 'I'm Damon Salvatore and you are turning me on, and I'm going to make sure you know it and leave you a hot mess in two-point-five seconds.' "

Damon leaned forward and lowered his voice. "And don't I follow through on that look, darling?"

Elena swallowed, her twitching hands flattening against his chest. "Um. It maybe takes five seconds sometimes, but—"

He cut her off by sealing his mouth over hers. She squeaked a fruitless protest, because she gripped the collar of his T-shirt and pushed against him. Winding one hand into her hair and flattening the other at her lower back, Damon teased her lips with his tongue. She opened her mouth and flicked hers out. Their tongues met in something that was half-dance, half-battle, and she hummed into his mouth.

"You a hot mess yet, Elena?"

"Um." She blinked at him, her eyes glazed and her lips swollen.

"You are a good-looking mess."

"Uh . . . Is this a complement?"

"It is," he murmured.

"You are obsessed."

"With you? Yes. I'm so obsessed it is dangerous."

Elena stopped. Her eyes found his and searched them endlessly, asking questions he couldn't answer in words. Hell, he just answered every question her eyes were asking.

"Damon," she whispered, brushing the backs of her fingers down his cheek.

Damon turned his face into her touch and kissed her knuckles, closing his eyes. It was true. This girl—he was obsessed. Completely and utterly obsessed with everything about her. Her past, her present, her future. He wanted to know every goddamn thing about it all. Why she allowed that bastard to treat her that way. How she felt right now with him. What she wanted in a day, a week, a month, a year.

If she ever wanted him.

"You never told anyone, did you?" He pinned her with his gaze. "Your parents, your friends, the police. You kept it totally secret."

"You know that," Elena replied in a small voice. Her gaze fell away, but he gripped her chin.

"Eyes on me, darling."

She pulled them back to him.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Elena laughed bitterly and grabbed her wineglass. She finished it in one long drink, but she didn't let go of the glass. She set it in her lap and twirled the stem between her fingers and thumb. "My mum wouldn't have believed me. All she cared about was that her imperfect baby girl was marrying the perfect man. The degree I insisted upon would become useless, because no man likes a woman who can support herself, and I would be reduced to exactly what she is—a trophy wife, pretty on a rich man's arm, there to charm investors and business contacts at fancy dinners and cocktail parties. As long as there were no bruises that could harm the perfect image the world would get, she wouldn't have cared."

"Your dad?"

"I have seen my father four times in nine months. He works constantly. I doubt he would have cared."

"His parents?"

"Think he is a golden boy who can do no wrong." Elena fiddled with the glass again, and Damon could see she was fighting to keep her eyes up and on him. "Just like the rest of society. When I arrived here, I threw my phone in the river by the hotel. I had two kinds of messages from him. The voice ones were everything a girl wants to hear—declarations of love and all that bullshit. The texts, well, you can imagine from the email what they were."

His grip tightened on her. Asking her about the past was a bastard of a catch-22. He wanted to know it all, every damn second, but that pathetic little boy made Damon so mad it scared him.

He still didn't understand how Liam could hurt this sweet girl in front of him.

"Did you love him?"

"Once. Maybe."

"Do you now?"

Elena looked at him and shook her head. "Don't be mad," she whispered, sliding her hand up to her neck and touching his hand. "I don't want you to be mad."

Damon took a deep breath and rested his forehead against hers. "I'm not mad, darling. You are confusing that with…"

"Annoyance? Frustration? Anger?"

"Mmm."

"I know, Damon," she said softly. "I know because I felt it toward myself for so long. I'm mad I can't go and tell anyone now. But I'm really mad that I can't be free, that he still thinks I belong to him, and that he is still coming after me like I do."

"He is delusional, Elena. He is totally whacked. You never belonged to him. You don't own people with fear."

"But he did."

Damon dipped his face and brushed his lips over hers. "No, darling. No. He doesn't own you. I don't even think I do. You are mine, sure, but, Elena? You own me, baby. You own every damn bit of me, so you are mine because you decided that, and it isn't because you fear me. Now don't take that to mean I would let you walk out of this room and decide you aren't mine anymore, because that isn't how it works, but you get me." He pulled her into him until his lips ghosted her earlobe. "You are mine and I'm yours because there is no other possibility. So he can take a long walk off a short pier."

Elena dropped the wineglass to the floor and wrapped her arms around him tightly. He circled her waist with him arm and held her against him. She nuzzled the crook of his neck with her nose, and he buried his in her hair.

She was always so tiny in his arms, and it just made Damon want to protect her more.

No. It wasn't even a want. It was a need. He needed, desired, craved, to protect her. Every second.

His pen glided smoothly over the thick pad of paper. This wasn't his domain, but Damon was going to try it anyway. Just like Stefan said to him once, _if you have got the words inside you, something you got to say without actually saying it, then this is how you do it. You live it, breathe it, feel it, play it, and then you sing it. You sing it to the whole goddamn world, while knowing the whole time the words you can't really say are meant only for one person._


	13. Chapter 13

Elena knew they meant well, but she would love to, at least pee without being shadowed to the bathroom. Never mind the three brawny bodyguards in the next room. They should just hook her up to a mic, and then they could all hear her business.

It was all for her own protection, but unless her ex-fiancé had turned into Spider-Man and could scale up nine floors and ninja jump his way into the room through the window, Elena believed she was probably safe enough.

"Are you seriously standing outside the door?"

"Just in case."

"Damon! I can't pee with you listening!"

"I'm not listening, darling. I'm standing guard."

"You know, this is getting a little silly now." Elena grunted and forced herself to pee. "Like, for real. And you were totally listening because you answered me!"

She flushed, washed her hands, and unlocked the door.

Damon towered over her by a few inches and outward by several more, but that didn't stop her from narrowing her eyes in a challenging move. It had been days since Elena got the email, and she had been on total lockdown since. Liam wasn't shy, and he wasn't patient. If he knew where she was and he was here, he would have pounced by now. Round the clock security or not.

"You know he was just trying to scare me into going back, right?" Elena put her hands on her hips. "Just like that chick faked your sex tape to try and blackmail money from you."

Damon ran his hands through his hair and shuddered at the reminder of Wes' call yesterday on the way to New Orleans. "I know, Elena, but it doesn't stop me worrying. And the fact that she turned out to be a whack job doesn't make it better. I already know for a fact the whack job train broke down at your ex's stop."

Elena looked up and pursed her lips so the laughter inside didn't escape. They were not having a banter conversation. They were having a serious conversation.

"Do you need to use the bathroom again to get out that laughter you are keeping inside?"

Elena slapped his arm. This time she only froze for a half second before Damon grinned and kissed her forehead.

"Getting there, darling. Getting there." His grin widened and he backed into the bathroom. Elena swung the door shut with a huff and stalked into the main room.

"Trevor!"

"Yes, sweetheart." Trevor turned to her.

"He is not here, is he?"

His eyes softened. "I promise you he isn't."

"Right. So I can come and go as I wish inside the hotel, correct?"

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean, 'not exactly'? It is perfectly safe in here!" Elena cried in annoyance. Seriously. She bet even Jennifer Lawrence had less security than this. No, scratch that. Elena knew she did.

"He could come in at any time. We have reception briefed on the situation, but they haven't studied him the way my boys have."

"So it looks like two or three of your boys can add customer service to their résumés."

"Elena," Damon sighed.

"No, don't 'Elena' me. That means you are annoyed, and you don't get to be annoyed."

"Is it, you know, that time?" Trevor asked. "Because she is a little…bitchier…than normal."

"Oh damn! You did not just say that!" Caroline exclaimed.

Elena covered her face with her hands and shrieked. "No, I am not on my freaking period. I am frustrated. Okay? I'm goddamn frustrated. I get what you all are doing, and I appreciate it, but, hell." She ran her fingers through her hair. "I feel trapped."

Damon reached for her, and she stepped to the side.

"All this, it makes me feel trapped, okay? Protect me, guys, please, but does it have to be so full on? For two years I was told what to wear, where to go, what to do, how to do my hair, how to eat my pizza, how many glasses of wine I could have a week, how to hide what was happening. He trapped me, and this, the reason I came, was so I could be free."

"Honey," Caroline said softly, taking Elena's hands and standing in front of her. "You are not."

"I know, but can't I at least pretend?" Elena implored to Trevor. "Can I use the gym alone? Can I go to the bar with Caroline without being watched? Can I just…be alone?"

It sounded horrible. It sounded ungrateful. It sounded so very bitchy, and Elena was not trying to be. She was trying to breathe. To be something other than oppressed entirely. She promised herself she would be free of Liam. She held on to the belief that one day she would be, because she knew that day wasn't today, but that was okay. That was okay because she was so safe, but hell, she was not a high-risk prisoner.

Liam was not here.

He was not here.

She was safe.

"Elena, you know we can't—"

"I will get the hotel manager to have a meeting with me within the hour and arrange for the rest of the hotel managers on the tour to call me at half-hour intervals after lunch," Trevor said, cutting Damon off. "I will get the boys in the boardroom at lunchtime. Four of them will be behind reception. Six-hour shifts. One of them at all times." He turned to Elena. "We compromise. Someone stands at the end of the hall instead of outside the door. You can do all the things you asked, but someone will be within a hundred-foot radius of you at all times. You won't know they are there."

"Are you insane, Trevor?" Damon exploded. "We agreed that if I am not there then someone else is glued to her side until I get back. This isn't keeping to that!"

Elena rested her hand on his back and slipped her fingers beneath his shirt. Damon stilled, taking a deep breath. He was completely rigid, and when she touched her fingers to his front, every muscle on his stomach was tensed and formed.

"Elena," he growled.

"Damon," she whispered.

His chest heaved with his heavy sigh and he dropped his head. "What, darling?"

Elena stepped behind him, her hands now clasped at his stomach, her cheek resting against his back. "That girl who sold the threesome story," she started quietly. "She trapped you, right? She backed you into a corner you couldn't get out of no matter how hard you fought. Every time you left the house you were assaulted with questions, right?"

"It was relentless."

"Right. You dealt with that for what…a couple weeks?"

"Yeah, Elena."

"Imagine dealing with that for two years, then finally, finally finding freedom, and then having it taken away from you again."

Damon sighed again, and Elena felt the breath left his body. Her fingers glided slowly as he turned in her arms and then enveloped her in his.

"Trevor," he said in a much calmer voice, resting his chin on top of her head. "Do what she wants, but the chance of her being alone is very unlikely. Even more so than before. But she can pee alone now."

"So courteous," Elena mumbled into his chest.

"Done," Trevor responded. "Lucas, end of the hall. You follow them into the Quarter but keep your distance. Damon?"

"Yeah?"

"Take a earpiece in your pocket if we are so far away from you."

"Got it."

"Make sure it is connected, all right?"

"Got it."

"And you," Trevor said, making Elena turned to look at him. "It is a good thing you are so damn cute, because I wouldn't take these orders from any other five-foot-nothin' chick."

"I'm five foot six!"

"Precisely," he retorted, folding his six-foot frame through the door and slamming it.

Silence settled through the room.

Damon's fingers were threaded through hers and his grip was tight. For all her protestations that going out in public, holding hands, and looking all too much like a couple when their current state of relationship was very undefined was a dangerous thing to do, he did not to care.

Elena even tried to throw the safety thing back in his face. Hello, they were out here, where everyone could see them, photograph them and lead her delightful ex right to her. Damon dutifully reminded her that her family didn't read tabloids.

Of course, Elena knew Liam knew she was here, so it wouldn't surprise her if he did know exactly where she was. A jolt shot through her spine—he could be here. In New Orleans. Just…watching.

The French Quarter was so busy they could have walked past him ten times and not known about it. There were people everywhere, talking, laughing, bustling through the streets busily. The touristy types were holding cameras to their eyes and pointing excitedly, while the people who obviously lived here duck and dived around waving arms.

Elena had been shoved this way and that a million times over, so Damon's hand-holding didn't seem so dumb now. Especially not since she fell into a wall and scraped her elbow. "What do you want to see?" Damon looked down at her, and she shuffled a couple inches closer to him. "All right?"

"Busy," she muttered. "Um, I don't know. Marie Laveau's grave? Stop in every voodoo shop we see?"

"We have probably got time for both of those," he laughed quietly.

"Damn, I don't know." Her stomach rumbled, and she blushed.

"I think you need food," he muttered into the side of her head, still laughing. He kissed her hair and guided her over to a café. "Beignets?"

"I…I have never eaten beignets?"

Damon stopped her, turned her, and stared at her. "Excuse me?"

Elena lifted one shoulder. "I have never eaten beignets."

"Oh." He guided her to a table and sat her down, then went to the counter. He exchanged some words and money with the guy behind it, then joined her at the table with two cups of coffee. "Wait for this," he told her. "Best thing ever."

"Um, okay." Her lips twitched at the enthusiasm in his voice, and she turned her head around. Okay. She was determined to find Lucas. It was like her own personal challenge, despite the throngs of people that were undoubtedly hiding him.

"What are you doing, darling?" Damon asked, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand.

She craned her neck. "Trying to see if I can find Lucas."

"Why?"

Sighing, Elena turned to him just as the plate of beignets was placed in front of them. "I'm interested to see how well you can hide a two-hundred-and-thirty-pound man of muscle outside a dainty café."

Damon nodded his head towards the building opposite them. "You hide him in the bar across the street."

"Seriously? That is where he is?" Elena peered through the windows, grateful that he really was out of sight but still close.

"Yep. Why, you worried?"

"I already told you I'm fine. I was just curious." She tore a piece of the pastry off and put it into her mouth.

Damon raised an eyebrow, his amusement showing in the upturn of his lips. "All right, darling."

"Oh. My. God." Elena stared at the pastry then at him.

"What?" Damon's smile grew.

She held up the sugar-coated bundle of heaven that just got placed in front of her. "These. I need all of them."

Damon tore a piece of his beignet off and popped it in his mouth. "Done."

"Come with me," Caroline whispered, grabbing Elena's hand and waving to Lucas across the bar.

"Wait, what? I wanted wine!" Eight hours of stumbling around New Orleans with Damon and her feet hurt and her liver was begging for Moscato.

Okay. So maybe not begging, but it was close enough, and Elena didn't want to be tugged around anymore.

"Soon! Come with me!" She laughed and pulled Elena through to the lobby. "Come on, Lucas!"

"Caroline!" Elena complained, too tired to fight her tug.

"Miss Caroline, what are you doing?"

"Good question," Elena muttered, allowing Caroline to drag her out of the hotel and towards the parking lot.

"Miss Caroline!" Lucas snapped. "If you leave the hotel I have to notify Trevor."

"Then tell him. We are with you, big guy. I would like to see some pretty rich boy take your ex-RAW ass down."

"You used to be on RAW? As in WWE RAW?"

Lucas just winked.

"He used to be on RAW?" Elena asked Caroline, climbing into the backseat.

"Yeah. Won't tell us his name, though, the boring shit. And he apparently dropped off the radar long enough ago to not be recognized." Caroline scoffed.

"Seat belt on, please, Miss Caroline. You, too, Miss Elena."

"Thank you. Where are we going?"

Caroline grinned and leaned forward between the seats. "To the tattoo parlor down the street."

Elena stopped. "Wait. What?"

Her grin just widened, and Lucas pulled away.

x x x

Aw, hell.

Elena couldn't believe she did it.

"I can't believe you did it!" Caroline gasped over her wineglass. "I thought you would tell me off and watch me do mine."

"It really hurt!" Elena rolled her shoulder. "Ouch. Still does."

Caroline stared at her wrist where Stefan's name was covered by a dressing. "Yeah. This kind of stings, too."

"What kind of stings?" Stefan asked, walking across the bar.

"Oh damn!"

"Didn't you tell him?" Elena shrieked quietly.

"Tell me what?"

"Nothing, honey. Nothing." Caroline shoved her wrist under the table.

"Are you kidding? He is going to find out. Man up, chicken!" Elena point her—much-loved—wineglass at Caroline.

"I, er, I got a tattoo."

"You did what?" Stefan asked slowly, staring at Caroline with disbelief radiating from his eyes.

"I got a tattoo." Caroline held her wrist up and smiled weakly.

Stefan rubbed his hand across his forehead. "Okay. You, Caroline Forbes, who whimpered when she gets prodded by my finger, got a tattoo? The same Caroline Forbes who cried for an hour when she broke her arm?"

"I was nine!" Caroline snapped indignantly. "And I fractured it in four places."

"Can I see it?" Stefan asked.

"Huh?"

"Your tattoo?"

"Oh!"

"You got a tattoo?" Damon laughed. "Oh shit."

Caroline narrowed her eyes and pulled back the dressing to reveal the simple script spelling Stefan's name with a tiny heart below the "a."

"Cute," Damon said. "Not for me, but cute."

Caroline poked out her tongue and turned to Stefan at the same time Damon turned to Elena. "Does that mean you got one, too?"

"I was forced into getting one," Elena corrected him.

He stopped. "You got a tattoo?"

"I have heard that question way too many times in the last two minutes." Elena sipped her wine.

"Seriously? Did you?"

Elena glanced at Damon sideways and noticed the upturn of his lips. "Yes."

"Can I see?"

"I guess." Elena eased the shoulder of her shirt down and held it while he slowly peeled back the dressing.

"Oh, Elena," Damon breathed softly.

Elena glanced at her shoulder blade, but the black letters were a blur to her. It didn't matter, though, because she knew the words perfectly.

Fear nothing.

"So I can remember when I get scared," she whispered.

Damon stared at the ink for a long moment before gently covering it back up. Then he took her shirt from her grip, eased it over her shoulder, and turned her into him.

"Good thinking, darling," he said softly, cupping the side of her face and bringing her into him.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it. It is also sexy as hell."

Elena looked up at him through her lashes. Of course, to Damon, it was.

x x x

Elena rifled through her purse to make sure she had everything before she got in the car and went to the arena with the guys. Since New Orleans was a midweek concert, something they didn't do very often, every rehearsal was at the stadium instead of at the hotel. Really, they should all be at the arenas, but as they would tell you, they were garage-boy dreamers at heart still. So no one argued.

"Pen, paper, phone, wallet, water, gum…"

"Shit, Elena. You got the kitchen sink in there?" Alaric peered over her shoulder.

"Maybe the bathroom one," she replied, rifling through it. "Hell. I forgot my tablet with your schedules and stuff on it. Here." She thrust her open purse into Enzo's arms and stepped back. "I'm just going to run upstairs and get it."

"Elena…"

Elena stared at Trevor. "Literally two minutes, okay? It is on the coffee table. I forgot to grab it. Straight in, straight out."

"I forgot my jacket," Caroline in. "I will go up with her."

"Oh, yes, Ms. Tough Girl," Alaric snorted.

"Your balls, my hands, a blender," Caroline shot over her shoulder, jabbing the elevator button.

"All right," Trevor sighed. "But I'm standing here and timing your asses, so move."

Elena gave him a sassy salute just before the elevator doors shut. Caroline giggled and dug around in her shorts for her room key and Elena spin hers between her fingers.

"Here. One minute." Caroline grinned, swiping the card.

"Deal." Elena swiped hers and pushed the door open. Tucking the card into her back pocket, she walked towards the coffee table, where she could see the tablet sitting.

The door swung shut.

The harsh scent of cologne wafted towards her, and the air inside her shifted from free breath to a constricted gasp.

Elena froze.

"Elena."

No. No. No. This was impossible.

"Aren't you going to turn around and say 'hi, babe'? Or have you forgotten me already?"

"Like I could," she whispered, standing up straight and slowly turning. "How did you get in here?"

Liam leaned against the doorframe casually, as if he hadn't broken into Damon's room. Her room. "Tried to get into the hotel in Atlanta but they refused me instantly, and I knew your new buddy had his security all over it. So I drove here. Didn't shave for a few days, did my hair a little different, put on some glasses, and checked in before you did. Wasn't that hard if you are not an idiot."

Her mouth was dry, and her heart, oh god, her heart. It was pounding frantically, threatening to spill from her chest.

"Didn't expect to find you fucking that bastard though, did I, Elena? I didn't expect to find your bag in his bedroom and your toothbrush next to his by the sink."

Elena stepped back, her arms going around her waist. His jaw was tight, and the vein on the side of his neck was bulging, and oh, she knew this look, and it didn't end well.

"I didn't expect to come here to get my fiancée back home and find her whoring herself to some white-trash asshole." Liam advanced towards her, his fists clenched at his sides, anger radiating off of him and bouncing from surface to surface until it was suffocating her. "I didn't think my girl would stoop so low as to shack up with a lowlife piece of shit!"

"I'm not yours!" Elena snarled, backing away from him. "Not anymore. I'm not your girl, I'm not your fiancée, and I'm sure as hell never going to be your wife!"

His fist flew at her faster than she could blink, and Elena fell into the wall.

Several beats passed, and then, "You want to rephrase that, Elena?" Liam pin her to the wall by her upper arms. "You want to reiterate who you belong to?"

Elena's eyes travelled from the door to his steely, blue gaze. "Never in a million years."

He slammed her against the wall, and Elena cried out at the sharp jolt of pain that radiated from her shoulders to the top of her backside.

"You sure, babe? Because I don't give a shit how many times he has had his dick in you, you are still mine."

"I never slept with him!"

"Liar!" Liam hit her again, and this time, Elena tasted a drop of blood from inside her cheek. "Your panties are on the floor!"

"He stays on the sofa. I changed and forgot to pick them up," she lied again, keeping her eyes on the floor.

Elena was trembling, everywhere, because she was falling back, back into the past, back into fear. Back into submission and subordination, into what he wanted to hear, because he scared her. He terrified her.

Liam shoved her against the wall again, but her head slammed into the hard surface, and she screamed as the pain radiated across her scalp.

"Did you think I wouldn't find you?" He grabbed her jaw and held her face still, keeping her hands clasped in his tight grip. "Did you really think you could run out on me four days before our wedding and I would let you go? That I would let some dickhead touch my girl? Make her his?"

Elena stared at him, shaking, because her jaw was hurting so much she couldn't speak.

"Did you?!" he roared, sliding his hand to her neck.

Elena shook her head the tiniest amount.

"Good. Because now you are going to call that bitch who came upstairs with you and tell her you are feeling sick and you are going to have a nap before you meet them. Then you are going to pack your worthless shit, and you are going to get your worthless slut ass downstairs and into my car so I can take you home, where you belong." He leaned in close. "The world will think that trash you shacked up with beat you and I saved the day, then you are going to marry me and we will live happily ever after, but not until you have got a bruise for every time you let his cock inside you." His breath heated her cheek, and Elena cringed, turning away. "So tell me, how many do I owe you, babe? One? Two? Five?"

"Didn't you hear me earlier?" Elena whispered, ignoring the sting in her jaw and looking into his eyes defiantly. "I'm not marrying you. Ever."

Liam released her hands and his fist connected with the side of her head. Elena winced at the searing pain running through her forehead, and before she even realized it, her hands.

She lashed out at him with everything she had, ignoring every ache and sting and slice of pain. Ignoring the burn spreading through her body and the tinge of blood in her mouth. Elena fought. She shoved at his chest and scratched at his face and struggled in his hold.

With everything she had got, she fought.

"You are mine and you are marrying me, you dirty whore," Liam growled, his hand once again at her neck, but this time, it was tighter.

And she couldn't breathe.

"Not in my lifetime, she isn't!" Damon burst through the door, and in half a second, Liam was dragged off of Elena. "Get your hands off Elena, asshole!"


	14. Chapter 14

Red. Damon saw red. He saw red.

His fist flew into Liam's face and the crunch of his nose was satisfying. But it wasn't enough—his jaw, arms, legs, every bit of this bastard needed fracturing so he knew.

"She is mine." Liam launches himself at Damon.

Damon's response was another punch, this time to Liam's chest, and it knocked him back. Liam looked up at him and smirked.

Damon swore he was going wipe it right off Liam's face.

Three pairs of hands grabbed his arms and held him back at the same time Trevor grabbed Liam who just had his hands on Elena.

"Get off me," Damon growled, struggling against their hold on him.

"Calm down!" Alaric said

"Then get him out of my sight before I kill him!"

"Trevor," Enzo said.

Trevor nodded once and dragged Liam out of the room.

"Now," Stefan said, watching the security guard shut the door after Trevor and five of his boys. "You are going to sit down and behave or have I got to punch you, too?"

Damon shoved the men off him and turned around. Elena. He needed to see Elena. He had to make sure…

Damn!

Her eye was swollen, blood was dripping from the corner of her mouth¸ and she could hardly move. Caroline was holding her up, and Elena was leaning into her, but she was looking at him.

And she was scared.

Of Liam, yeah.

But of him, too.

It was in her eyes.

"Elena," Damon whispered.

"Damon," Caroline said softly. Damon looked at her, and she shook her head. "Enzo, help me take Elena into my room and clean her up."

"No!" The protest burst from Damon. No. He would look after her. He would protect her. He would clean her up when things became bad, because nothing else felt right. Nothing else but a bad day ending with her in his arms made sense to him. Nothing else but her soft voice whispering "fear nothing" to herself, thinking he didn't hear, would ever be right to him.

"Yes." The word was barely audible, but it was there, and it was from Elena. "Enzo, please."

"Come here." Enzo lifted Elena, and she cried out in pain. Damon stepped forward, but Stefan darted in front of him.

"Let her go, bro," he said quietly. "Caroline's got her."

Damon stared as Enzo disappeared through the doorway, carrying his girl, his broken girl.

The anger boiled over, and Damon swiped his hand at the lamp on the side table. It fell to the floor, shattering, and he slammed his fist into the wall.

"Damn! How the hell did he get in here?" He shouted at the security guys. "Lucas! You are supposed to be on her ass! Always! How the hell did he get into my room and why was he alone with her?"

"Sit the hell down!" Alaric grabbed Damon and slammed him onto the sofa. "Get up and I'm going to punch you. I don't give a shit. The only thing saving you right now is that you are bleeding from four places on your goddamn face."

"How the hell did he get in here?"

"Calm down so we can find out." Stefan sat on the coffee table in front of me. "Lucas. Talk."

"It is on me." Trevor walked through the door. "Girls needed to come grab something. This place was meant to be safe. They should have been able to come up here to grab something and get back down without any trouble."

"You are the head of the goddam security and you let this happen?" Damon tried to stand up, but Alaric shoved him straight back onto the sofa.

Lucas handed him a shot of whiskey he hastily poured from the minibar, and Damon threw it to the back of his throat. The searing burn of it going down was better than the throb of his lower lip and the full-body ache from knowing that Elena was next door, hurting, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

That he didn't do a damn thing to protect her.

"My mistake. I messed up. But like everyone else, I thought this place was safe."

"So how did he get into the hotel?" Stefan asked. "Because if Damon doesn't find out soon, he is going to get crazy."

"I'm betting only one person knows that, and she is next door."

Alaric pulled out his phone and tapped the screen several times. He paused for a minute, the heavy silence and distinct scent of blood lingering in the air. "Enzo said he got turned away in Atlanta and came here. Checked in under a fake name and changed his appearance slightly before we even turned up."

"He has been here the whole time?" Liam had been in this hotel. Watching her. Watching them. Waiting for the moment he could get near her.

He had been so close to her, right after she said she needed space.

Elena's need for freedom trapped her worse than before.

And because of Liam and Damon's hot temper, she was afraid of him.

Damon buried his face in his hands. "Damn."

"Let's clean you up," Stefan said, getting up.

"Don't touch me," Damon replied. "I want to…I want to be alone."

"Damon," Trevor said from the doorway. Damon looked across the room into his warm eyes. "I'm sorry. Truly. I messed up."

"We all did," Lucas added. "You made the call, but I was standing right next to you, boss. I could have fought you, and I didn't."

"Where is he?"

"In his car. My boys are at every entrance and exit and they are inside and outside Caroline's room. Will be outside here, too. He isn't getting near her again, and if he does, I will break his legs myself," Trevor answered.

"Good. Now get out and make sure all of you don't mess up again."

"Noted. You want me to call the cops?"

"Not my call. It is hers. I will go along with whatever she decides to do."

The door shut, and Damon ripped his shirt off. Silence enveloped him, but not in a good way. In a heavy, oppressing way. The kind of way that suffocated you because everything was so strong you couldn't breathe through it.

It felt an awful lot like a broken heart and broken promises.

Damon promised her. He promised her so many times that Liam would never hurt her again. He promised her she was safe with him. He promised her he would never let Liam get anywhere near her.

But Liam did.

Liam had his fists in her face, maybe all over her body. He had his hand around her neck and his fingers in her hair, pulling, trying to break her. Trying to shatter her into doing whatever the hell he wanted her to do.

Thank god Caroline was smarter than she got credit for and knew something was up.

Thank god for that sharp-tongued, crazy-ass blonde.

But Damon could still see her. Elena. When she looked at him. The fear. He had never seen anyone look so scared of anything in his life. She wasn't just scared—she was petrified. If she wasn't so obviously in pain he would bet anything she was immobilized by her fear.

And that…seeing her look at him, fearing him…It meant he broke every single damn promise he made her.

That was the biggest punch to the gut Damon would ever get.

x x x

"Damon," Elena whispered raggedly, wiping a warm, wet cloth over her temple. "What did he do to you?"

Damon opened his eyes and stares into two very sad, very heartbroken, dark brown eyes. Through his sleepy haze, he saw that one was ringed with purple. It sliced through him, because she was hurt, yet she was here, worrying about him. "Worry about yourself, Elena. I can take care of myself."

"Obviously not," she replied, dipping the cloth into something then wringing it out. "You are covered in hours-old blood, Damon." She brought the cloth to his mouth. "This might sting."

Damon hissed as she tenderly wiped all the dried blood from his lips and chin. It took a few minutes because she was being so gentle, afraid to hurt him more.

"Elena…"

Elena sat back on her heels and looked down. "I have a fat lip, sore shoulders, a killer headache, and what looks like the black eye to end all black eyes. Nothing I haven't dealt with before, except this time you can see some of it."

"You say that like it makes it okay."

"I'm hopped-up on pain meds that I'm pretty sure have to be prescribed, so you probably shouldn't take what I just said as fact." She shrugged and climbed onto the sofa next to him. "Hold still, will you?"

Damon stared at her as she continued to clean his face. She was right—her right eye was so swollen she could only open it halfway, and the purple colour around it didn't do much to prove it was just a knock. Her top lip was cut open a little at the side, and it was slightly fat, but it was not so swollen that it would be there in a week or so like his felt it would.

"I think you broke his nose," Elena muttered hopefully.

"Should have been his neck."

Elena held the bloody cloth in her hands and nodded. "Yes."

"Elena."

"Don't call me Elena." She finally brought her eyes to his. "Everyone else can, but not you. I'm not Elena to you. I never have been. It is always darling."

"Darling," Damon corrected softly, a small smile at his mouth. He reached up and cupped the side of her face that wasn't swollen.

Elena turned her cheek into me and squeezed her eyes shut. She took one long, slow, deep breath, and then shuddered, and a tear dripped from the corner of her eye.

"Oh, darling." Damon sat up and pulled her onto his lap and leaned back against the sofa. She curled herself into him, gripping him tightly, and cried silently. The only evidence the tears were still flowing was the small hiccup she made every minute or so and the shudders that racked her body in between them.

"I was so scared," Elena breathed, resting her non-bruised cheek against his bare chest. "I was so scared that he would go too far. When his hand was at my neck, Damon, I was…." She shuddered again. "I was scared he would kill me."

Damon shook his head and held her tightly, careful not to hurt her. "Never. He never would have, baby. I would have killed him first."

"I believe you."

"You were scared of me."

Elena sat up and pinned him with her gaze. Her gorgeous, dark, tear-rimmed gaze. "That's what you thought?" Horror laced her whisper.

"I saw it, Elena. In your eyes. You wouldn't let me help you, darling. I…" Damon swallowed when the words caught.

"No! No no no!" She pressed her non-bruised cheek against his, and then pulled back, gripping his hair. "No. I was scared for you, you big dumbass. You were covered in blood, everywhere, and I didn't know what he had done to you. I just…I looked at you, and you weren't you. You were bleeding because of me. You were bleeding for me, Damon. I was so scared for you, and…" She paused. "I looked at you again, and it was wrong, and it shouldn't have happened, but staring at you like that, willing to get hurt for me, I…I have the worst timing ever, because then I realized you meant everything you have said, and I maybe fell a little bit in love with you."

Her final whispered words cut right through Damon. "Shit. Elena." He guided his fingers into the back of her hair and pulled her in to him. "Blind rage, darling. That was what I felt when I saw that bastard near you. I didn't go for him to get him off you. I went to kill him. For touching you like that…no, Elena. No. No one touches my girl like that. No one." He ghosted his lips across her bruised temple. "And, hell, darling, maybe I'm a little bit in love with you, too, but I don't have a clue what it feels like. All I know is that I will kill every bastard who tries to hurt you, and that you really are never leaving my goddamn side ever again. And if that is what you call a little bit in love, and then I guess I'm a little bit in love with you."

Elena held him tightly, winced, then pulled back. "Ouch."

"You okay?"

"My back hurts. There goes that nice moment."

Damon smiled and touched his lips to her forehead. "You want some painkillers?"

"I don't know what Trevor gave me earlier," she replied. "But vodka would probably have the same effect."

She smiled weakly, but it still had her Elena-spark in it. The one that was infectious and made him grin like a lunatic every time he saw it.

"Dammit, Damon. You split your lip open." She grabbed the cloth and pressed it to his mouth. "Stop smiling."

"Can't help it," Damon mumbled against the wet material. "Stop being so cute."

"Stop talking." Elena smiled softly and dabbed at his lip. "Here. Dab with the tissue paper to dry it up."

Damon nodded his head and did as he was told.

"You want some water?" Damon shook head. "A beer?" Head shake. "Vodka?" Head shake. "What?"

He stared at her.

"Damon."

"You told me not to talk, darling." He smirked with the good side of his mouth. "And whiskey. I need it after that."

"Whiskey for you, vodka for me," she muttered, opening the minibar and pulling out two bottles.

"You had painkillers. You aren't having vodka."

Defiantly, Elena unscrewed the cap on the bottle and tipped it back. "Bite me."

"I will. Just as soon as it won't split my lip."

She laughed into her hand. "Promise?"

"Yeah, darling. And I'm going to keep this one."

"You better."

x x x

Elena couldn't move.

Her back was so stiff it felt like she had got steel rods inserted in it, and she was pretty sure someone put an iron ball into her head in the middle of the night.

"Here." Damon set a glass of water and a couple of pills on the nightstand.

"Ow!" She stopped halfway sitting up. "My shoulders are hurting."

"Come here." He wrapped his arms around her gently and eased her up. "Shhh," he whispered, putting a pillow behind her back and leaning her against it. "All right?"

"Fine," Elena whispered unconvincingly. "What are these?" She took the pills and threw them into her mouth before he answered. "I guess it is too early for vodka, huh?"

Damon took the glass of water with a smile. "Yeah, darling, way too early. You want breakfast?"

"I don't think I can get up yet."

"Good thing I already thought ahead, huh?" He kissed her lightly then disappeared. Elena stared at the open door until he reappeared with a tray in his hands.

"What is that?"

"Breakfast." He grinned, and then winced. "Damn, my lip."

Gingerly, Elena lifted her hand to his jaw and touched her thumb to the cut on his mouth. "Thank you."

"Welcome," Damon murmured, kissing her thumb. He snatched a piece of bacon off her plate and rammed it into his mouth with a wink.

"Hey!"

"Mmm. Good." Damon backed out of the room once more and reappeared with a second tray. He sat next to Elena on the bed, stretched his legs out, set the tray on his lap, and grabbed the remote. Elena stole a piece of his bacon back and dropped it onto her plate, then swiped the control and changed the channel to Friends reruns.

Damon groaned, but he didn't actually say anything. Especially when Elena turned and gave him a sweet smile. Now he laughed and shook his head, turning his attention to his plate.

"Joey doesn't share food," Joey said onscreen.

"Damon doesn't share food," Damon muttered, glancing at her plate.

"Then don't steal mine," Elena retorted, munching on bacon.

His lips twitched. They ate in silence, Elena's attention focused on the screen, Damon focused on her. His eyes traced the line of her profile now and then, but he was mainly looking at her. Just…looking at her.

Her gaze flicked to Damon several times, drawn there by the intensity of his. It was irresistible, just like he was, especially when he sat up and pulled his shirt off.

Her eyes were definitely drawn to him now.

Hey, her body was hurting, not my eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, darling. You are too fragile to make love this morning."

Elena laughed. "Give me half an hour. These painkillers are amazing."

"Maybe not," he laughed. "Believe me, I would love to, but I don't want to hurt you." He tucked some of her hair behind her ear. "Hey, you know we go home this weekend, right?"

"I…" Elena swallowed and stared into her food. "Yeah."

"You are coming, too."

"I am?"

"Yeah, you are. I told you last night I'm not letting you out of my sight, and I meant it."

"Damon Salvatore, you open this door right the hell now!"

Damon froze at the sound of a girl's voice and Elena's head snapped around to Damon.

"Aw, man, she is kidding me," he groaned, getting up and walking around the bed.

"Uh, who is that?" Elena asked quietly, pushing her tray to the side and swinging her legs around and out of bed slowly. Thankfully she put on sleep shorts and a tank top last night before bed.

"My cousin sister," he muttered, opening the door. "Sarah. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, I don't know, Damon. Maybe because Caroline called last night crying and told me my big brother looks like he has gone ten rounds with John Cena and he probably broke some guy's nose! What the hell, Damon? Can't you behave for five minutes? What did he do? Sniff around your latest one-nighter?"

"Shut it, Sarah," Damon growled. "You have no idea what has been happening, so until you do, stop running your mouth like you know it all."

"I know I'm looking at you, and Damon! That black eye is so colourful I don't know if it is real or if Caroline attacked you with her pens! Your lip looks like it has been injected with fifty shots of filler, and your cheek! Look at the state of your sorry ass, Damon Salvatore! I have seen you in some messes, but this takes the cake and the damn cherry!"

"Sarah?" Caroline shrieked. "What—how—why?"

"I got a four a.m. flight. Four a.m.!" she yelled. "Now will someone tell me why Damon looks like a pile of shit!"

"It is my fault," Elena said softly, stepping forward and breaking through the shouting.

"Elena, it isn't, and you know it," Damon argued. "He put his hands on you!"

"Who did?" Sarah cried. "Wait, who even is she?"

"She is my girlfriend."

"She is?" Caroline and Sarah said together, as Elena said, "I am?"

"Yeah, you are." Damon's blue eyes pierced hers. "You all right with that, darling?"

"Uh. I'm sensing I don't have much of a choice here."

"You sense right." He smirked, and then turned to Sarah. "This is Elena, my girlfriend and personal assistant."

"Wow, you move fast. Now you want to tell me why you are beaten up?" Sarah asked, putting her hands on her hips. She swished her long, dark hair over her shoulder, and her bright eyes pin onto her brother. She was tall but slim, and she was beautiful.

"Yeah, when she is sitting down, because she is supposed to be in bed," Damon grumbled. Grabbing her hands, he pulled Elena to the sofa.

"Meds have kicked in!" Elena protested.

"Sit down, Elena." He sighed. "I will feel better if you do."

"Fine. But you go make me coffee."

Caroline grinned and sat opposite Elena. "Me, too, thanks."

"Me three," Sarah added, dropping next to Caroline. "Then you talk, Damon, because Wes already heard."

Damon paused. "Shit."

He made four coffees and set them on the table between them. Elena glanced at him as he sat next to her and curled an arm around her waist. Leaning into him, she rested her non-swollen cheek against his chest and swallowed.

Elena explained everything, why she left Richmond, how she got to them, what she dealt with, how she lived. She told Sarah about the emails and the messages, and then, her throat clogged. She couldn't…she squeezed her eyes shut, winced at the pain, and buried her face into Damon's chest.

Damon took over and explained about the threats and, eventually, what happened yesterday.

And Elena sat, listening, fighting the trembling of her hands, scrunching her eyes shut, reliving the punches and the slams and the raspy words and the insults and the constricting of her throat as Liam pinned her to the wall.

His touch, rough and harsh, unforgiving, unrelenting.

"Elena." Hands framed her face. "They are gone."

She stared into worried blue eyes. "I'm okay," she whispered.

"Don't lie to me, darling. Don't react that way when I talk about him then tell me you are okay, because you are not."

"I'm okay," Elena lied again, because she wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe she was okay. She wanted to believe she could see the light at the end of this jacked-up, never-ending tunnel.

This dark, scary, all-encompassing tunnel. It had to end sooner or later.

She hoped it was sooner.

x x x

"Elena," Damon whispered her name again. It only took a single second, but there was so much warmth in the tiny word that she softened.

"I can feel him." Her voice was barely there, so quiet Elena didn't know if she said those words or if she was imagining them. But Damon was looking at her, so she guessed she did say them. "Whenever I close my eyes, whenever I think, I can feel him, right there, in front of me, touching me, whispering into my ear."

Damon's hands curled around her body to her lower back. Slowly, he inched his fingers lower until they were curving around her butt, and he pulled her onto him. "We are alone, baby. I made them leave." The words were mumbled into her neck. He buzzed his lips upward to her ear. "Let me take him away," he breathed, hot air cascading across her skin and eliciting goose bumps everywhere. "Let me get so far under your skin he is never going to be an option again."

"I'm scared."

"You don't need to be." His fingers grazed along the tops of her shoulders until they sank into her hair. "Don't fear me, darling? Remember?"

"Never," Elena whispered. _How can you fear the person you are falling more irrevocably in love with every second that passes?_ She reminded herself.

His lips touched hers tentatively. Elena let her fingers eased up his chest to his shoulders and his neck, and then they curled around him, holding him close, letting her breathe him in. His hands cascaded down her back, his fingers massaging in gentle circles as his lips did the same thing.

She breathed Damon Salvatore in. Cocky words, overconfidence, determination. Sweetness, softness, gentleness. Every part of him seeped into her through the connection of their skin. Every part of her formed into him with each gentle sweep of his tongue against hers.

Damon slid her shorts over her ass and encouraged her to stand. Her feet hit the floor and she pushed the shorts down her legs. She stepped free from the material constraints, and Damon wrapped his hands around her thighs, pulling her closer until she was straddling his bare cock.

"Mine," he breathed, his touch feather-light. "Mine, Elena. You are mine, and I will bury myself inside you until you are fully aware of it. Darling, I'm going to stay inside you until I'm the only thing you can think of."

And he did.

Damon slipped inside her, tilting his hips so he was inside her deeply and the only sensation Elena was aware of was him. He was inside her, his hand around the back of her neck and the other at her hip.

He sat still as her hips rocked against him. Again. Again. Again. Again. Over and over until her fingers entwined with his messy hair and he gripped her hips. Until his hips met her gentle thrusts. Until heat swamped her body, throbbing, pulsating, beating through her. Until Damon groaned her name into her ear and crushed their mouths together barely seconds later.

Until Elena came so hard tears streamed from her eyes.

Until he pressed her face into his neck.

Until he whispered her name, again and again.

Until he wiped every salty tear from her cheeks before he wiped them from his chest.


	15. Chapter 15

Elena smiled as Damon walked off the stage to deafening applause from the crowd, grinning. He swept his arms around her waist, and she hugged his neck. The swelling on his eye had gone down, and the makeup girls did a great job of covering the bruising that had spread onto the side of his nose and his cheekbone.

He touched his lips to her forehead and took the water Pearl offered. Since Trevor briefed her on Liam and what happened three days ago, Pearl had been a little nicer to everyone, Damon and her specifically. Elena thought Pearl actually smiled at her this morning.

Caroline was deep in conversation with Stefan and Enzo. Alaric was looking at an iPad held by Ivy, and one of the makeup girls pushes past them and scurries to Damon.

"Turn around," she demanded, pulling a compact and pad from the bag slung across her body. Elena got up so Damon could sit down, and the girl bent in front of him. She covered the pad in makeup and got to work re-covering his bruises.

They had already been the subject of media speculation, and the fact his PA had sported similar bruising hadn't gone unnoticed by the vultures that stalked them almost all day yesterday. All of them were trying to ignore the rumours that they did it to each other, and all of them but Damon were doing pretty good at it. No less than eight magazines and papers had been torn up, and his phone had to have an emergency replacement this morning when a link popped up on his Facebook feed.

Yeah, Damon wasn't taking that speculation well at all. So it was nice when he looked at Elena and smiled, or when he hugged her like he just did. It reminded Elena that he was still Damon, and she was still Elena, and the only difference was that they were a little more beaten up than they were four days ago…and their relationship was defined.

It seemed crazy to Elena to slide from an abusive relationship, one she was almost committed for life to, into a brand-new, not-abusive one just a few weeks later. But it made sense…it felt right. From the tingles of attraction that spread through her the first time they met to the heated tingles Damon sent through her now with a single touch, it was right.

She knew with certainty that she was falling in love with Damon Salvatore. She could feel it building inside her. Every touch, every smile, every purr, growl, or whisper of her name pushes her closer to the edge, built the anticipation of the fall. Elena feared it would only take one more of those things before she gave herself over to the inevitability of her emotions.

She was a bomb on the brink of explosion, and Damon Salvatore held the detonate button.

And she wanted him to push it.

Damon grabbed her and pressed a kiss to her lips before he headed back out on the stage with the guys. Elena sat back down and Caroline went use the bathroom. She smiled and looked at the guys onstage.

Stefan, his guitar hanging around his neck and resting against his stomach, had his hand wrapped tightly around the microphone as he sang into it.

Alaric, his fingers strumming against his guitar, playing each note to perfection, perched on a stool for the slow song.

Enzo, sitting behind the drum kit, his eyes on the drums as his sticks moved across them, beating gently, adding a soft upbeat background to the guitars.

And Damon, holding his bass guitar, he focused on nothing but the strings beneath his fingers and the beat of the music around him. His biceps were tight with his hold on his guitar, and Elena trailed her eyes up and down his arms. That guy was gorgeous.

"Hey," Caroline whispered when the song breaks. "Do you want a coffee?"

"Oh, I will get some."

Elena stood and Caroline walked into to the dressing rooms with her as her phone rang.

Elena pulled her phone out and looked at the screen. She didn't know the number, and a frown pulled her brows together. "Hello?"

"Elena? Oh, thank goodness! I was so afraid you wouldn't be able to answer the phone!"

"Mum?!"

Caroline head snapped around to her and she grabbed Elena's arm, stopping them both in the middle of the hall.

"Can you talk? Is he…around?"

"Is who around?"

"That guy…the one in the band. The one who beats you up."

"What?" Elena shrieked.

"Honey, you don't have to be afraid. Liam told us everything. He said he came to get you but you were too scared to leave, and well, given his broken nose, we can see how violent this man is."

"Wait. Liam told you Damon beats me?"

Caroline's face contorted into something that resembled a creature from a haunted house. She was not happy.

"Yes! Oh, honey. I have been so worried. Did he make you run away? Are you okay? Liam said you were in awful shape when this Damon creature threw him out."

"I'm sorry. I'm stuck on the part where Liam says Damon beats me."

"Do you need me to call the police? I can have them bring you home, Elena. Your father is ready to make the call right now."

"Damon does not beat me! He has never hit me, ever!" Elena yelled into the phone.

"Elena!"

"No, Mum. Don't Elena me. You want to know who beats me, then you ask your precious Liam. Yes, Damon broke his nose and threw him out of the room, but that is because Damon walked in to find me pinned against a wall by Liam. Something he has been doing for the last two years, Mum."

"Is he there? Is he making you say that?"

"No, he isn't. I'm telling you the truth, Mum. I swear. That is why I left…I won't do it anymore."

"Oh, Lord. Richard, call the police!"

"Don't you dare!" Elena meant to shout, but it came out as an angry snarl. "I'm safer here than I ever was in Richmond. I'm not coming home. You are not calling the police. You are going to leave me here, because I'm happy!"

"He is there, isn't he? Oh, honey, come home and we can rearrange the wedding. It will be okay."

 _Damn. Does no one listen to me in this goddamn family?_ Elena thought.

"There is no wedding. I am not fucking marrying Liam."

"Elena!" she gasped. "Did you just curse?"

"How did you get this number?"

"Your fiancé retrieved it from the tablet in the hotel room," Elena's father said, presumably so her mother could locate smelling salts to wake her up from the shock of her daughter saying "fucking."

"Awesome. And he isn't my fiancé, for the hundredth time." Elena met Caroline's eyes. "Look, Dad, I appreciate yours and mum's concern, but I'm okay here. I'm happy here. So call off your search parties and don't think about calling the police. I have not been kidnapped or something crazy. I'm staying here. I'm not marrying Liam. End of discussion."

Caroline's eyes widened. Elena ended the call and stared at the phone.

"Well. That was stressful," Caroline breathed.

"Uh-huh." She had never spoken to her parents like that. Ever. Ever. She had always been polite and courteous. And she had sure as hell never told them what to do or what not to do. She had always done what she was told.

The phone rang again. Caroline snatched it and dropped it on the floor.

Then she slammed her foot into the screen.

Now Elena's eyes widened.

"What the …?" Damon rounded the corner with Stefan.

Elena licked her lips and dragged her eyes from the phone to him. "I'm going to need a new phone."

x x x

Lillian Salvatore's eyes roved over Elena. From the top of her head, across her beautiful face, down her pretty dress, to her pale pink toenails. She studied her, and Elena fidgeted under the scrutiny.

"Mum."

"I'm just trying to figure out if I'm dreaming, son," Lillian replied, looking at Damon. "You brought a girl home?"

"Who did what?" Giuseppe asked, walking into the kitchen. He stopped. "Damon? You brought a girl home?"

"Well, she is a girl, and she is with me at home, so it looks that way, old man."

"Cocky little idiot," Giuseppe laughed. "Well, move over, Lillian. Let me look at her."

"She is not an art exhibition, guys. And both of you have met Elena."

"She is real pretty, huh?" Lillian said to Giuseppe.

"Sure is. What are you doing with my son, girl?" Giuseppe roared at his own joke.

Elena smiled. "I was coerced into it."

"Hey!"

She directed her smile to Damon. "I kind of was."

"You don't take his shit, do you?" Giuseppe asked Elena. "He has got a lot of shit to give."

"No, sir, I don't, and if he tries, I give it back."

"Ahh, the family interrogation," Caroline laughed, sitting at the table. "Are you squirming yet, Damon?"

"Shut up," Damon muttered. "Can we get this fun meeting over with yet?"

"We could, if you would introduce us properly," Lillian replied, turning to pour water into Giuseppe's mug.

"You two had met Elena. And now you all decided you would stare at her instead."

"Well, we are shocked, hon."

"Damon Salvatore doesn't bring girls home. Not even to sleep with," Caroline input helpfully.

"Yeah, thanks, Caroline," Damon grumbled. "Mum, Dad, you have met Elena Gilbert before. Elena, this is Mum and Dad."

"Hello Mr and Mrs Salvatore."

"Lillian and Giuseppe," Lillian corrected. "But you can call us Mum and Dad. Everyone else does." She shot a fond look at Caroline, and then folded Elena into a warm hug.

Lillian kissed the top of Elena's head, and then Giuseppe embraced her tightly. Damon's lips twitched at seeing her so warmly welcomed. God knew his girl needed it—she needed all the love that could be thrown at her. He was still buzzing with anger from the conversation she had with her parents. Not because they had assumed he had hurt her, but because they were so blinded by Liam that they didn't believe her.

Elena glanced at Damon across the old farmhouse-style kitchen, her eyes flicking over the rustic cupboards and large range cooker, and smiled shyly. The curve of Damon's lips matched hers and he held his arm out to her. She slotted against his side perfectly, and he curled his hand around her hip. He kissed the side of her jaw, breathing in her soft scent, and glanced at his parents.

"We are going out."

Caroline grinned from the table.

"Dinner is at six," Lillian informed Damon. "I will set an extra place at the table." Her wink was over exaggerated, directed at both Damon and Elena, and Damon exhaled heavily before sweeping Elena past his family and out the front door.

He guided her to his truck and unlocked it.

"This is yours?"

Damon looked back at her. "Yeah, we don't all use yellow cabs to get around at home, darling."

"Actually, I used a car service." Elena clicked her tongue and poked his arm. "How do I get into it?"

He laughed and opened the door. She eyed him and the truck speculatively, so he grasped her waist and lifted her. She squealed, grabbed his shoulders, and let him guide her onto the seat.

"Like that," Damon murmured, brushing his lips across hers.

"Smartass," Elena replied, just as quiet, and swung her legs around.

"You ever lived anywhere other than Richmond?"

Elena stared at him flatly as he got into the truck.

"I'm taking that as a no," Damon replied. "All right." He started the truck and pulled out of the driveway. "We are going' to the store. And, er, an old…fling…works there. So you can stay in the truck if you want."

"Why would I?" Elena turned to face him and hugged her knee to her chest. "You told everyone I'm your girlfriend. Don't I have to kick ex-fling ass?"

Damon glanced at her and laughed. She was so adorable. "Sure you do, darling, but she is a bitch of an ex-fling." He explained the story about Andie spilling the beans to the media when Caroline came back this past summer. How her ten seconds of fame made everything ten times harder.

"Damn," Elena whispered.

"And she hasn't exactly left me alone since then. Seems to think that I have forgiven her since I'm back home."

"That is cute. I wondered why your phone was buzzing every ten seconds."

"Asking me when I'm coming over. You would think after ten ignored messages she would get it."

"That it isn't happening? Yeah."

Damon pulled up in the parking lot and looked over at her. "Are you getting sassy, Elena?"

She cut her eyes to him and pushed open the door. She stared at the drop for a second before she swung her legs around and jumped out with an "Oof!"

He laughed and locked the truck behind him. Elena slid her hand into his, their fingers entwining. He glanced down at them and smirked smugly. Apparently he was not the only one who got a little protective.

Damon grabbed a cart and shoved her in front of him so he could push it. Elena glared over her shoulder, but the smile curving her lips defied her annoyed stare. He chuckled and gave the cart a push into the store.

"Wait! I can't walk with you behind me!" Elena squealed, tripping as the cart caught the back of her feet.

"All right!" His chuckle became a full laugh and he stepped to the side, hooking his fingers around the side. "Come on."

"What are we doing?"

"Romantic-type shit," Damon replied, tugging her down the candy aisle. He threw a large bag of marshmallows into the cart, and then spin it around to where the chips were. Elena squeaked, and he loved it. It meant he had surprised her. He was quickly learning that she has a sound for everything…

Disgust. Surprise. Happiness. Amusement. Sadness. Anger. Pleasure…

"Cheesy ones," she demanded.

"What?"

"Cheesy Doritos," she explained. "I like the cheesy ones."

Damon smirked and grabbed a bag of them as well as the original ones. "What Elena wants, Elena gets."

"Does that count for orgasms?"

He stopped and stared at her. "Did you just say that out loud?"

Elena pushed the cart forward, making his hand fall away from the side, and she stopped right next to him. She craned her neck back to look at him, and grinning, she said, "You are rubbing off on me, Damon Salvatore."

"Orgasms? Rubbing? In two sentences?" Damon clasped the back of her neck and brought her towards him. "Grab some Red Bull. I'm keeping you up late."

She laughed through their kiss and skipped off down the aisle. She threw a smile over her shoulder and turned the corner. Damon shook his head and jogged after her. When he caught up with her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, she screamed, and then slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Damon!"

He laughed and kissed the side of her neck. "Keep walking, darling. The wine is the last aisle."

He pushed her forward and only let her go to put a bottle of her favourite Moscato in the cart. She pursed her lips, but again, she smiled, ruining the stern effect she was so obviously going for.

She was too cute to be stern. Nobody was going to take her seriously when she tried to pretend to be stern.

Damon put some Budweiser into the cart next to her wine and swung it around to the checkouts. Deliberately, he directed them to Andie's register, and it took everything he had not to grin his way through this.

"Damon," Andie acknowledged, her eyes focused on Elena.

"Andie." He dropped the marshmallows on the belt and hugged Elena again.

Andie's eyebrows met her hairline. She widened her eyeliner-rimmed eyes and parted her bright pink lips. "Oh, cute. Wine, chips, and marshmallows. You are treating her to your late-night beach sex."

"Except I will wake up with him tomorrow morning." Elena smiled sweetly and covered his hands with hers.

Andie stared at her. "Sure you will, doll, until next week."

Elena's smile widened. "Are you going to scan those chips, or are you going to crinkle them? Because if you are picking the latter, I would prefer a new bag."

Damon bit the inside of his lip to stop his laughter exploding out of him.

Andie scanned the chips and dumped them at the end. Elena scooted them forward and put them and the marshmallows in a bag.

"Really, Damon, you could get original with your dates."

"I took her for dinner already. I'm no Romeo," he retorted.

"Pretty good Casanova, though," Elena admitted. "At least when you stop talking."

"Hey!" Damon tickled her sides and she giggled, slapping at his hands.

"Lay off," she managed through her laughter. "Can you pay yet? I'm led to believe I will get sex on the beach, dear boyfriend, and I don't want to be disappointed."

"Boyfriend?" Andie sputtered, looking between them.

Damon swiped his card and grinned.

"Apparently class comes into play." Elena shrugged, grabbed the grocery bags, and put them in the cart. "It was nice meeting you…" She looked pointedly at Andie's name tag. "Andie."

"Pleasure," Andie snarled back.

Damon buried his face in Elena's hair, fighting his laughter. She had got an attitude worse than he thought. This chick could shoot any bitch down without even thinking about it.

She shrugged him off her, grabbed the bags, and then looked at the back gate expectantly. He unlocked it and lowered it, and she deposited the bags in it. He looked at her as he relocked the back gate, and she tucked her dark hair behind her ear and gazed up at him with those gorgeous dark brown eyes he adored.

"What?" Elena asked softly, her hand lingering at her collarbone, her fingers still twined in her hair.

Damon stepped towards her and buried his fingers in the other side of her hair. "I never thought it would be so hot when a girl got protective over me."

"You think that was protective? Oh, that is adorable." She kissed his cheek and escaped his loose hold.

"What do you mean?" He trapped her against the side of the truck and grabbed the handle without pulling it.

Elena's lips pulled up to one side. "When she said that thing about the wine, chips, and marshmallows on the beach, I wanted to jump over the counter and tear her extensions out," she admitted quietly. "I felt worthless for a split second, until I realized she was the girl you were talking about. I still felt a little shitty, but I'm right, aren't I?"

"That you will be the girl waking up next to me tomorrow?" Damon said, stepping towards her. "That is right, darling. Every day from now on. Just you."

She cupped his cheek and leaned up to kiss him. "You got more-expensive wine for me, though, am I right?"

He covered her hand with his and grinned against her mouth. "You got it, baby."

x x x

Open-mouthed, Damon stared at Elena as she discarded her fourth marshmallow.

"I can't do it!" she whined, throwing the toasting stick on the blanket.

"Hang on." Damon scooted over until he was behind her and rested his legs on either side of her body. "Get a marshmallow."

"Can't I stick to chips and wine?"

"No."

She huffed, but pulled a marshmallow from the bag and put it on the prongs. Damon curled his fingers around hers and leaned forward, making sure the fluffy candy was right over the fire.

"Turn it slowly," he instructed. "Like this." He spin the stick so slowly he could barely see it moving. "See?"

"Oh!" Elena tilted her head to the side. "We don't have bonfires in Richmond. At least, my family doesn't."

Damon pulled the toasted marshmallow from the fire and put it to her mouth. She took a bite from the hot, gooey mess, and he said, "Then get used to Southern life, darling. We love them."

Elena smiled, mouth full of marshmallow. She tilted the stick towards his mouth, and he closed his lips around it, pulling the last of the gooeyness onto his tongue.

Her smile widened, and then she leaned forward and sealed her mouth over his. His fingers creeped up her arm to the back of her head, entwined in her hair, pulled her closer, down on top of him to the sand. She obviously dropped the stick, because she framed his face with her hands.

She whimpered slightly when the sore part of her lip brushed his lips, but she tilted her head so the connection was avoided.

He curved an arm around her back. Holding her body flush against his. Feeling and enjoying every curve of her body. Committing every inch of her to memory.

Like he could forget. Like she was forgettable.

She wasn't

Not for a goddamn second.

If something should rip her away from him right now, Damon knew for a fact he would never forget the softness of her skin, the sweetness of her kiss, or the cascading warmth of her breath against him. He knew for a fact he would never, ever forget Elena Gilbert.

Damon also knew there wasn't a single person in this world who could ever compare to her. Not for him. No one would ever laugh the way Elena did. No smile would ever be as bright as hers. No touch would ever ignite his skin in a way that came close to hers. No one, ever, would put as much light in his days as this girl did.

"Hey," she moaned against him. "What is with all the kissing? Wasn't sex mentioned earlier?"

Damon flipped her over on the blanket. She gripped his hips with her legs, her fingers diving into his hair, her body pushing even harder into him.

"Sex was mentioned. Not by me," he said into her neck. "But I'm happy to oblige."

"And if someone sees…"

"We own this beach and everyone is on orders to go to hell." Damon smiled against her collarbone. "So this promise I can keep."

Elena tightened her grip on his shoulders. "Thank God."

x x x

"Damon?"

"Uhh?" Damon rubbed his eyes from the dim light coming through his bedroom door and leaned up on his elbow. "Huh?"

"Damon," Giuseppe said firmly. "You got to get up, son."

"What time is it?" he asked groggily, quiet enough that he didn't wake Elena.

"You got to come downstairs. Now."

"All right. Shhh." Damon gently moved Elena's arm and got up and shoved yesterday's pants on. "What is going on?"

"Come downstairs," Giuseppe repeated. "Wear your shirt."

Damon put on his T-shirt, rubbed his fingers through his hair and glanced back at Elena before shutting his bedroom door. "Dad?"

"Shit. Son." Giuseppe paused halfway down but gave him nothing.

"Dad! What the hell is going on?"

"Damon?" Sheriff Alan Hooper appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

Damon looked between him and Giuseppe. "Sheriff? What are you doing here?"

He removed his hat and runs his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Damon, son. I am not going to arrest you, because you are my best friend's son, but I got to take you in for questioning."

"What for?"

"New Orleans PD had a report filed against you. Passed to us when they realized you were home. Grievous bodily harm. You resist and I got to arrest you, son. Come with me and it is easy."

Every muscle in his body tensed. "Who reported it?"

The sheriff shook his head.

"Alan," Giuseppe slapped his shoulder. "Tell him and he will cooperate, isn't that right, son?"

"Sure, Dad." Damon looked from his old man to another. "Sheriff? Who was it?"

Sheriff Hooper looked him in the eye. "Liam Davis."


	16. Chapter 16

The bed was cold when Elena rolled over. And empty. So empty, so cold. Her hand patted the mattress for a ridiculous amount of time looking for Damon. It took a minute, but she finally woke up enough to realize he just wasn't in bed with her.

Elena sat up and rubbed her eyes. Yawning, she rolled out of bed, grabbed her bag, and removed every inch of yesterday's makeup from her face. She snagged some underwear, denim shorts, and a tank top from her bag, too, and got dressed. The house seemed quiet until she opened the bedroom door. A low murmur of voices travelled up the stairs, and she peeked into Stefan's open door to see if Caroline was inside. When she couldn't see Caroline, she made her way down the curving stairs slowly.

"I can't believe it," Alaric growled

Elena paused on the stairs.

"What the hell!" Stefan shouted, and something slammed loudly. "I'm so mad!"

"Honey," Caroline said quieter.

"No!" Stefan voice was just as loud. "He was down there with only Dad. Why the hell weren't we woken up?"

"We are in this shit together," Enzo growled. "All four of us. Six of us. All of us. Together. We should all be there with him!"

"Shhh! You are going to wake Elena."

"I'm already up." Elena rounded the corner and casted her gaze over all of them. "What are you talking about? Where is Damon?"

All four of them took a deep breath at the same time.

"Tell me!" Her eyes flicked desperately across them. " Where is he?"

"Doll," Caroline breathed. "I don't…Shit."

Enzo walked to Elena and hugged her, but she shoved him off. He wasn't Damon. "Where is Damon?"

All of them looked at her. Just looked at her. Sympathy. Pity. Everything she never wanted to see when someone looked at her. She didn't want sympathy or pity, she wanted the damn truth.

"Where is he?" she shouted. She didn't mean to, but she couldn't help it. Her chest was tight, and her stomach was coiled with worry.

Stefan moved and Caroline put a hand on his arm. Seeing him still, Enzo stood. His hands gripped the edge of the large farmhouse-style table, but his eyes pin themselves to Elena.

"He is at the police station."

"Wh-what?" Elena breathed, stepping back. Her arms curled around her front, like her own hold was as comforting as Damon's was.

"The sheriff stopped by early this morning and took him in to question him," Enzo explained. "Your ex went to the police in NOLA and told them Damon attacked him. And you."

Elena covered her mouth. "No," she whispered. "Never. He never would."

Elena was shaking. But this time it was from a fear of a different kind. The fear that the next time she saw Damon, she might not be able to touch him, or kiss him, or feel him.

That fear flooded her veins, warming each one.

Determination did, too. A determination like nothing she had ever felt. Something that trembled as it swept through her bloodstream.

It was a determination that enlightened her, invigorated her.

"Take me," Elena demanded, staring at him. "Take me now."

"Elena…" Alaric interrupted, moving to stand.

"Enzo, take me there, now, please."

A long moment passed with his eyes on her before he finally pushed away. "All right. But only because you look like you are ten seconds from crying at me, and I'm shit with tears."

"Thank you," Elena whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I can change this."

"Elena." Caroline stoodup. "You go and I go, too."

Elena shook her head. "I'm okay. I have to do this."

"And I have to hold your hand." With her hands on his shoulders, Caroline kissed Stefan. "You got Lillian, okay?"

Stefan's eyes flicked between them. "Okay, princess, I got it."

Caroline clasped Elena's hand and pulled her after Enzo. He opened the front door and clicked a button on his key fob. Lights flash on a truck that looks like Damon's but was black, and he pulled the back door open. Caroline gave Elena's back a shove and she climbed in before her.

"You don't have to do this," Elena told her quietly.

Caroline squeezed her fingers. "Sure I do, Elena."

Elena bit the inside of her cheek and stared out the window as Enzo pulled away from the house. So many things were swirling inside her right now. Fear, apprehension, paranoia…

And she was still scared. She was more than scared. The thought that she was about to come clean to someone in authority…It petrified her.

But she would do it.

However long she had to sit there, Elena would do it.

For Damon.

For herself.

For them.

The building was there. Suddenly. Quickly. Shockingly. Like…right there. The town was small.

Elena breathed in sharply, and Caroline's hand tightened around hers.

"Elena…..."

"I have to," Elena whispered, fear lacing her words and her breaths and her pulse.

"With you every step of the way," Caroline whispered back, squeezing her fingers.

Elena unbuckled her seat belt and dropped from the truck. Enzo met her there, and Caroline, too, as she slid out and took her hand. She slipped her fingers through Elena's, and Enzo's hand on her shoulders guided her towards the door.

It was almost as if they both knew she was scared. That she needed them.

Elena wished Damon were here to hold her. To make it better. To ease the pain.

"Hello, miss. Can I help you?"

Elena squeezed Caroline's hand. Hard.

"Elena," Enzo said softly.

"Yes, sir," Elena said quietly, forcing her eyes to his. "Can you tell me if the sheriff is available?"

"He is busy right now, ma'am. Can someone else help you?"

"No. It must be the sheriff."

"Let me see if he can talk to you."

Elena let go of Caroline's hand. "No, sir, you don't understand." She took a deep breath. "I must talk to the sheriff immediately. It is imperative that I do."

The officer looked at her for a long minute. "I will see what I can do, ma'am."

Elena relaxed when he disappeared. Enzo slid his hand into hers. "Elena. Are you sure—"

"Positive," Elena whispered. "I won't let him hurt Damon like this."

Caroline wrapped her arms around Elena's shoulders.

Elena held her waist. "I love him, Caroline," she breathed. "I can't let him do this. I have to protect him, even if it hurts. You understand that, don't you?"

Caroline smiled sadly and breathed heavily into my hair. "Yeah, doll, I understand. You get my boy out of here, okay?"

"I promise." Elena squeezed her.

"Miss?"

Elena turned and looked at a guy with salt-and-pepper hair. "Yes, sir?"

"I'm Sheriff Hooper. Hear you got something pretty important to say."

"Do you have an interview room ready?"

"Peters," he ordered, nodding to the guy behind reception. A second later he said, "In thirty seconds there will be."

"Great. I would like to report several cases of domestic abuse."

Shaking. That was what Elena was doing now. Shaking. Trembling. Quivering. No other words for it. She had just relived the last two years of her life in excruciating detail. She burnt from each word she just spoke. Hell, every part of her was aching, even the parts that were hopeful.

She was just hoping that a few hours of an interview and an hour of scanning pictures of previous injuries from her online drive is enough.

Thank God she kept them all.

Elena sat on the steps in front of the station and stared at the open driveway. Hopefully Caroline got her text and knew to pick her up. When it was obvious the interview was going to last longer than two hours, Elena told her to go home with Enzo and tell everyone what was happening.

A silver Ford pulled into the lot and parks. Elena watch as a dark-haired girl with climbed out and headed towards her.

Sarah.

"Shit," she said simply. "Is it me or is your ex a serious asshole?"

"It isn't you."

"Thank God." Sarah sat next to her. "Damon has never been arrested before."

"I finally gave him a first."

"Whoa." Sarah leaned back. "Finally? He called me two hours ago flipping his head because what the hell was his girl doing in the station?" She raised her eyebrows. "So before he gets out and busts my ass, how about you get in my car? I love him, but he is scary when he is angry."

"True story," Elena admitted, although Damon wasn't ever scary to her.

Damon was as about as scary as a butterfly.

"Get in." Sarah ordered, pulling the passenger door open before her side.

Elena slid into the plush leather seat, but her eyes were still on the door.

"He will be there for a while," Sarah explained, pulling the car back. "Sheriff Hooper won't charge him unless he is one-hundred-per cent sure, and I'm guessing you were there for a reason. Reason being he can't charge him."

Elena pulled some fluff off her shorts. "I was there to bring him home."

"Good," she replied. "He sure needs someone like you."

"You barely know me."

"I know how you look at him. That is enough."

Elena swallowed and looked down. She knew how she looked at him, too. She looked at Damon like he was the north to her south, the east to her west. She looked at him like he was the song to her silence.

She looked at him like he was the constellation to her night sky.

He was

Damon was all those things and more.

Elena hugged herself as Sarah parked in front of the house. Getting out, she breathed deeply to regulate her pulse. The memories flooding her veins right now were scary. They were scarier than she remembered them being, but they would be okay if only she had Damon here with her to cope.

When they reached the Salvatore household, Elena followed Sarah in, her arms still around her waist. Sarah guided her to the sofa and pushed her down next to Caroline.

"Sit," Sarah ordered.

"Did you see Giuseppe?" Alaric asked, looking up from the laptop on his thighs.

Sarah shook her head. "Nope."

Elena hugged herself tighter.

"Why don't you all have something to eat? I have made some sandwiches." Lillian pointed towards the kitchen.

"Okay. Let's go." Caroline pulled Elena up and shoved her towards to kitchen.

"I'm not hungry," Elena said.

"Then have a cup of tea," Lillian said as she reached out to hold Elena's hand. "Have some tea."

Waiting was a torture. Elena had never felt time passing so slow in her entire life. Lillian, Sarah and Caroline had made her eat a sandwich. She didn't have the appetite but she forced herself to swallow the bread.

"You really know how to make a cup of nice tea, Lillian," Alaric said as he drank his tea.

"This is known as proper selection of tea," Lillian explained. "I don't exist on tea bags."

"What's wrong with tea bags?" Sarah grumbled. "I exist on tea bags."

Caroline laughed. "Yeah, right."

Elena smiled as she watched the interaction between everyone in the house. They were such lovely people.

"Mum's tea is always the best."

Elena snapped her head around.

Damon.

He was standing a few feet from her, looking like he just got out of bed, although it has been at least ten hours since she did. Here he was messy hair, scruffy jaw, fitted shirt, muscled biceps, toned body.

Elena got out from her chair and ran at him. He opened his arms, and she jumped into them. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. His hand cupped her ass and the other slid around her back to her waist, holding her close to him.

"Baby," Elena whispered into his neck.

"Darling," he whispered back, gripping her tightly.

After a short moment, Damon put her down and looked at everyone.

"You all miss me?"

Lillian walked towards him and pulled him close for a hug. "My son."

Elena hovered back and watched the others folded Damon into a big hug.

"You must be hungry," Lillian said. "Have some sandwiches and tea."

"Let's go." Caroline shoved the others out of the kitchen. "Let's give the love birds some time alone."

Elena smiled after her. Feeling Damon's eyes on her, she turned towards him. "Hey."

His lips twitched. Several heartbeats pounded in her chest, then his hands were framing her face and his mouth was pressed against hers.

Elena crinkled his shirt in her fingers at his sides and leaned into him.

"You got me out of there," he murmured into her hair.

"I did," she whispered, burying her face in his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "You didn't have to go down there and do that. You really tell them everything?"

"Everything," Elena confirmed with a shake in her voice. She circled his waist with her arms and tilted her head back to look at him. "He messed with me for so long. He is not doing it to you."

Damon kissed the tip of her nose. "You don't have to protect me, darling."

"I do if I can."

He pressed his face into her neck and squeezed her tightly. "You have got to go back, don't you?"

"I don't have to." Elena swallowed. "But I should. For a bit."

"When?"

"I don't know. Tomorrow maybe."

"Stay this weekend," he asked quietly. He brushed his fingers through her hair. "Please."

"It will make it harder," she whispered, feeling a sting at the back of her eyes. "I don't know when I can come back or where you guys will be."

"We are in New York in two weeks. If you aren't back with us by then I'm dragging your ass with us."

Elena laughed, but she half-choked on it. "I'm counting on it, Damon." She slid her hand up his chest and cupped his cheek. "I have to sort this out. It is in the NYPD's hands now. It is easier if I'm there."

"I know." Damon looked at her with a sadness she had never seen in his eyes before. "I know."

x x x

Damon wished she would let him go with her. She shouldn't be going back to New York alone, especially not when he knew that Liam was there.

She shouldn't be leaving him here while she went to deal with this matter herself. That wasn't how it worked. It was painfully damn obvious when her mum called that she didn't believe Elena—she was too caught up in believing that Liam was some perfect husband-to-be when in reality he wasn't worth the bird shit on the roof of his dad's car.

And now Elena got to go up there, listened to that crap, and tried to walk away without being hit once again.

Letting her doing it alone was going against every goddamn instinct Damon possessed. She should be here with him, safe, or he should be there with her, making sure she was safe. But, damn. The fact she was making him let her go was amazing and showed him who Elena Gilbert really was. Once upon a time, she could barely say boo to a goose without barricading herself into a barbed-wire cage for fear of being hurt. Now, though, she was determined to do this, and she was determined to do it alone. And Damon didn't even have the words for how much he respected her strength.

Then, when she got it, her once upon a time would be done, and he was going to do whatever it would take to give his sweet girl her happily ever after.

Damon stared at her from beneath the covers as she ran a brush through her long, dark hair. She swept the wet locks to the side, exposing her neck, and he climbed out of bed quietly. His hands clasped her tiny waist perfectly, and he lowered his mouth to her neck. She paused at the touch, and then she dropped the brush and turned her face into him.

"I thought you were asleep," she said softly.

"You were out of bed. Of course I'm awake." Damon trailed his lips down to her shoulder. "You are trying to get away without me knowing?"

Elena looked up and met his eyes in the mirror. Her light was dulled by the sadness he saw there.

"Elena." He turned her in his arms and clasped his hands at her lower back. She rested her hands on his chest and flexed her fingers. "Don't run from me, darling. I don't want you to go, but I won't make you stay if this is what you got to do."

"Really?"

"Don't you know a thing about me?"

"I thought I did, but you keep surprising me." She smiled.

Damon returned the gesture. "Sure you don't want me to come?"

"Damon…" she sighed. "You have stuff to do with the band. Practices, concerts…Plus now you have to deal with the media, since they found out you were taken in for questioning yesterday."

Damon grunted. The nosy pricks. "I don't care, darling. I will come with you if you want me to. We can reschedule a show."

"You aren't rescheduling because of me." Elena looked horrified. "No. No, I'm okay. Really."

"I don't believe you."

"I never said you had to. Just…pretend."

"I'm terrible at pretending," he muttered, lowering his face to hers. Her lips parted, her breath tickling his mouth, and he spin her around and pushed her backward.

They fell onto his bed and he silenced her shocked squeak with a kiss. Damon kissed her long and hard, until her body relaxed and she winded her fingers into his hair.

"Damon," Elena said breathlessly.

His lips trailed along her jaw and down her neck. He peppered kisses along her collarbone and down her chest to where her towel was tied between her tits.

"Damon," she repeated. "What are you doing?"

Damon freed the towel and pushed it to the sides. He cupped her breasts and took one of her nipples in his mouth, lavishing attention onto it with his tongue. She gasped and arched her back, her grip on his hair tightening. He turned his attention to the other, giving her other nipple the same treatment, and then kissed his way down her stomach.

"Damon…" This time she gasped it, bending her leg up.

"You got to go, then you got to go." Damon kissed from hip to hip and flicked his tongue across her skin. "But I'm going to give my girl a proper good-bye."

He hooked her legs over his shoulders, lower his mouth, and set right to it.

x x x

Elena passed her purse through security and walked through the body scanner. She paused on the other side and waved to Damon, sadness glaring from her chocolate-brown eyes. Damon lifted his hand in good-bye and watched until she disappeared into the terminal completely.

His hand, still raised, dropped to the top of his head, and his fingers raked through his hair. Every part of this felt so wrong, but there was nothing he could do. Elena got to do this. He knew that.

Damon pulled out his phone and brought up the last text from her. He hit reply.

 _Come back to me._

He stared at the screen until the box popped up with her response.

You are under my skin, Mr Salvatore. Only you. XO

His lips formed a pained smile and he nodded slowly, pocketing his phone.

He was totally in love with that girl.

"I can't believe you wrote a song." Stefan stared at the lyrics again, then back up at Damon. "And it isn't half bad, brother."

"Really? Feels like a bunch of shit to me."

"Damon wrote a song?" Alaric snatched the sheet of paper and read it. Enzo looked over his shoulder and skirted his eyes across the lines. "Hell," they said.

Stefan took the page back. "I'm guessing it doesn't have music."

"Nothing. Just…that."

"Wait here." Stefan got up and went back into the house, still holding the sheet of paper.

Damon frowned after him, but he shook his head and turned back to Enzo and Alaric.

"Quiet without her," Enzo stated.

"No shit." Damon rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward.

"Look like you have been hit by a truck," Alaric said, unhelpfully.

"Shut up."

"I miss her," Enzo continued. "She is like a little ray of sunshine despite all the shit, isn't she? Now it is dull as hell."

"Right," Alaric agreed. "I miss her too. She is a great person."

"Want to keep chatting or are you all done yet? Because funnily enough, I know all this crap," Damon snapped. "One day, some chick is going to come along and grab you all by the balls with a vice-like grip and I'm going to laugh my ass off."

Alaric sniggered. "No chance."

"It happened to me. Going to happen to you."

"Come on, can't a guy make three photocopies of a single page without an argument starting?" Stefan teased, handing Damon the original sheet of lyrics, then Enzo and Alaric one each before sitting with a fourth sheet.

Alaric looked down. "What music are you thinking?"

"More country than rock," Damon answered. "Not necessarily a pop tune, but not a ballad either."

"Right. Classic Damon song." Enzo got up and moved to the drum kit. Setting the sheet on his knees, he grabbed his drumsticks and drummed a slow, steady beat. They sat in silence as his lips moved. "Alaric. Guitar."

Alaric grabbed his guitar without a word and swung a stool over to the drum kit. He put his lyrics on the floor in front of him and looked at Enzo. Alaric's head bobbed a few times, then his fingers moved, and he hummed the tips over the tight strings. A few more notes and Enzo beat the drums a little harder.

Damon and Stefan sat back and watched them. The magic they created from nothing was scary. It had always been that way. Stefan wrote, they created, Damon went along with. But this time, it was his damn words they were bringing to life.

Enzo and Alaric synced in a terrifying way, but when it created music like this, it was more amazing than terrifying. Scratch that, it was both. Terrifyingly amazing.

"Like that?" Enzo asked, resting his sticks down.

"Exactly like that," Damon confirmed.

"Yeah!" Stefan input, grabbing a guitar. "Let's do this."

Damon grabbed his bass guitar and pulled up a stool. Stefan fell into the melody seamlessly, and Damon closed his eyes, humming the words to the beat, his lips forming a smile as it fitted perfectly. Sure, there were probably some notes out of place here and there, and some chord changes were needed, but the beat, the pace…it was perfect.

It was Elena. All over.

 _You are not broken, baby, you aren't shattered,_

 _Maybe a little cracked, but darling,_

 _I can fix you if you let me._

 _No matter how dirty your past is, your future is still spotless._

 _That is how we should look at one another._

 _Let me soothe the sting, let me kiss your scars,_

 _Let me wipe your tears and dry your cheeks,_

 _I'll hold you tight and love you deep._

 _Let us kiss yesterday goodbye._

As soon as they finished the song, they launched back into it, both Damon and Stefan singing. They stopped whenever something needed changing or tweaking.

Over and over, they sang, played, adjusted, redid. They switched a few odd words out in the lyrics so it fit better musically, but the feel stayed the same. Over and over.

They didn't leave the garage for six hours.


	17. Chapter 17

Elena stared at her childhood home like it was a foreign country.

She had no idea what she was going to find behind the front door. She had no idea if she would be welcome or not. Liam had always been a hero in her parents' eyes. Hell, it was bad enough when they called and refused to believe anything she had said.

Now Elena knew it was because Liam went to them before the police. He could speak to them, charm them, and convince them that his words were the undisputable truth. He would have played up the poor-me card, just like he used to whenever he made an excuse up for hitting her.

 _"But, babe, I have had a stressful day and I was expecting dinner when I walked in…You are a woman. You should be able to boil potatoes right. It makes me angry when you make careless mistakes, you know that…You know we have company tonight. If you had just cleaned the house, then I wouldn't have gotten so mad…"_

Elena couldn't even begin to imagine what he said to her parents.

She swallowed hard, still staring at the door, and turned back to the cab that just drove her here. She opened the door and gave him the address of her mostly unused apartment.

She was not quite ready for this.

Elena closed her eyes as he made the drive through Richmond City. The glaring of angry drivers and loud, beeping horns broke through her attempt at finding serenity.

It was a wasted attempt, though, since she knew that as long as she was in the city, she wouldn't find serenity or peace. She left that when she left the Salvatore family.

She left laughter and happiness and playfulness. She left everything she had wanted for years to come back to the place she had been dying to leave.

Driving away from here was the most invigorating thing Elena had ever done.

She hoped that she would be able to get on a plane in a few days and feel the same feeling.

If she was lucky.

Elena threw the driver enough to cover his fare and a tip, then grabbed her purse and got out. The sidewalks were busier than she was used to, especially after spending two days in a sleepy seaside town and a couple weeks before that on a live-in bus.

"Miss Gilbert," the doorman, Pete, said with surprise. "You are back."

"Yes, I am." She walked past him and towards the elevator.

"Miss," he interrupted her and stood in front of her. "Are you aware your tenancy ends tomorrow?"

"I'm sorry?" Elena blinked at him. "It doesn't."

"It does. Your parents informed us a few days ago that if you failed to return by the end of the week that we were to clean out your apartment and have your belongings shipped to them."

What the hell?

"Well, thank you for informing me of what they couldn't," Elena said with an edge to her voice. "I will make sure to collect any items I would like to keep and get out of your way. I would appreciate if you could call for a car service to collect me in approximately thirty minutes."

"For your parents' address, ma'am?"

"A hotel downtown. A reservation would also be appreciated."

"Ah, your father requested you be directed to their residence were you to arrive here."

"But until tomorrow morning, I'm still a tenant, so my father can take his instructions and insert them into his behind with as much vigour as he would like." Elena swept past him and jabbed at the elevator button. She stepped into it and pressed the button for her floor. Anger swirled in her as she travelled up and searched for her key.

She shoved it into the slot and slammed the door behind her. The apartment was blessedly silent. She wouldn't put it past Liam to be here waiting for her to return…or just in case she did. He had to know she would.

She stopped in the middle of the living room and looked around. To think she only lived here for a few months before Liam insisted she stayed at his house with him every night. To think her home was never really her home. It was her escape from his violence, sure, but never really a home.

Elena didn't even feel particularly upset that it was not hers anymore. Just plain old rage at her parents and their actions. She already knew her visit to them tomorrow would be pointless. They would only confirm with words what their actions had already told her. But she was still going, because she was a glutton for punishment.

If she wasn't, she would still be in Shelton Bay with Damon.

Elena held her purse to her stomach and closed her eyes. Damon, Her cocky, lovable pain in the ass. Her protector. Her surprise, because he really was someone other than she expected him to be.

The guy who took blows to keep here safe. The guy who almost got arrested for his part in it.

His text before she boarded the plane flashed into my mind. _Come back to me._ Like there was ever any other option. Like she could stay away from him. Like she could live without his smirk, or the sexy glint in his eyes, or the sizzling, seductive way he trialled his hands across her body.

He promised her he would get so under her skin she would forget Liam's touch.

Damon had.

In a crazy way, Elena could remember the punches, the slaps, the beatings, but she couldn't remember how they feel. Every time she tried to, her skin tingled with the memory of Damon instead. It was almost as if her brain had kicked into a new coping mechanism to protect her, and Damon was it.

She would take it.

All day, every day, she would take it.

Elena walked through into her bedroom and looked around. She couldn't see a single thing she wanted to take with her. Not the comforter, not the picture on the nightstand, and she sure as hell didn't want the hideous lamp her mother made her buy when she moved in. And in the bathroom—she didn't want the perfume on the windowsill, nor did she want the mirror on the wall.

The phone rang, and she picked it up. "Hello?"

"Miss Gilbert? Your car is waiting for you."

"Thank you, Pete." Elena put the phone down, ignore the blinking icon for the messages, and left the apartment key on the table by the door. She glanced around, leaving the place exactly as it was when she walked in.

Then she walked into the elevator, travelled downstairs, got her reservation details from Pete, and got into the waiting Mercedes.

And Elena drove away from yet another piece of her past.

Richmond was freaking cold.

Yes, eighty degrees at noon wasn't cold by any stretch of the imagination, but Elena had been spoiled by the nudging-one-hundred-degrees Southern temperatures for the last several weeks.

She pulled a light sweater on over her tank top and slipped her purse over her shoulder before getting into the elevator. The concierge smiled and tipped his cap to her when she stepped from it into the lobby moments later, and she shot him a polite smile. The doorman opened the door for her with a "ma'am," and another opened the door of the waiting cab.

Elena got in, holding a deep breath in until it burnt her lungs. Exhaling slowly, she leaned back in her seat and stared out the window. For the second time since she arrived Richmond not even twenty-four hours ago, she was en route to her parents' house. This time, though, she had to go inside.

And she was terrified.

The ink etched into her skin reminded Elena to fear nothing, but if only the ink went deeper. _If tattoos went soul-deep, some of us would be a lot more scarred, but others would be a lot stronger,_ Elena thought. _I would be a lot stronger, for sure._

The cab stopped, and she handed the driver the fare.

"Thank you." Elena unbuckled her seat belt and got out of the car. The driver smiled at her, but the daunting view of her parents' house eclipsed it, and she could barely raise a twitch of her lips in response.

She walked up the long pathway to the front door. Her hand hovered over the bell, and with another deep breath, she pressed it.

The door opened slowly, and Cathy, the maid, stared at her. "Miss Elena!"

"Hi, Cathy." Elena offered her a weak smile. "Are my parents at home?"

"They are. They are in the sitting room. I will take you there." Cathy waved her in and shut the door behind her. She adjusted the neckline of her dress and took Elena through to the back of the house. Elena swallowed when she knocked lightly twice. "Excuse me, sir?"

"What is it, Cathy?" John Gilbert's voice asked sharply.

Elena stepped around her and pushed the door open wide. "Hey, Dad."

"Elena."

Isobel Gilbert stood slowly, and she took her sweet-ass time turning around. When she did, she pinned Elena with eyes as dark as hers, but hers were bitter and angry. "You decided to come in today."

Of course. Her mother didn't miss a thing.

Except the truth.

"Yeah, yesterday I clearly decided I wasn't equipped to deal with your skewed vision of my ex-fiancé. I'm not particularly ready today, but given I no longer have anywhere to live in Richmond, I figured I should probably suck it up."

"Elena Gilbert, you do not speak to your mother with that tone." John stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Isobel's shoulders.

"Last time we spoke, neither of you were particularly respectful of me, so I assumed that was the tone of the conversation."

"Clearly living with trash for so long has injured your manners."

"Or it has opened my eyes," Elena replied, putting her purse on the table. "And, hey, if something has to be injured, "I would rather it be my manners than my body."

Isobel jolted. "Elena."

"Oh, was that rude?" Elena tilted her head to the side. "Sorry, Mum, but so is kicking me out of my apartment and leaving the doorman to give me notice."

"We decided it was for the best."

"Sure you did. Like it is painfully clear you will believe anything Liam says over what your own daughter says."

"You haven't told us anything." Isobel clasped her hands in front of her and stepped forward, away from John's hold.

"No, I have, Mum. I told you on the phone when I was in New Orleans. Damon didn't hurt me. This black eye you can still see through my makeup? It wasn't Damon Salvatore. Neither was this mark here on my lip." Elena tapped her bottom lip.

"Elena, you should consider what you are saying very carefully," John said, stepping up. "If the Davis get word of this, things could become incredibly difficult."

Elena stared at him. His greying hair, the lines around his eyes, his aging yet still intimidating figure, and her jaw dropped. "Are you serious, Dad? Are you honestly telling me I should not be honest about the shit I suffered just to make sure I don't upset the Davis?"

"Elena!" Isobel gasped.

"Oh, I said 'shit.' So what?"

"That's it," John said, stepping towards the telephone. "Being around these…The S…those boys are doing nothing for you."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm calling the police, and this time you are going to tell them the truth."

"I already did!" The words exploded from Elena, and she ran to where John was standing and snatched the phone. She slammed it on the holder. "Mum, you remember your anniversary party six months ago when I was limping and I told you I slipped after mopping the kitchen floor and sprained my toe on the dining table?" Isobel nodded. "No. Liam pushed me. And the time I sprained my wrist while falling on a run? He shoved me into the wall, and my wrist bent the wrong way when I tried to steady myself. That time I had a migraine and couldn't do family dinner on Easter? He beat me so badly I could barely walk."

"Elena, you don't know what you are saying," Isobel argued, her face white. "Did you tell the police this fairy story?"

Elena stepped back, staring between her parents. "Wow. You really don't believe me. You would rather stay friends with his family than believe your own daughter."

"This Damon character has some kind of hold on you, honey, and it has to stop," John implored, his hands out in front of him. "We can help you. You are here now."

Elena flattened her hands against the sides of her head and shook it. "The only hold Damon Salvatore has on me is my heart. For the first time in two years, my life is my own, Dad. My mind is. I can wear what I want and do what I want and say what I want. If you can't step back and believe me, then I'm done."

"Done?" Isobel shrilled. "John, what does she mean? Elena, what do you mean? Done? What is done? John!" She fanned herself and stepped back.

"I mean I'm leaving, Mum," Elena explained with a sigh. "Leaving Richmond. Going back to be with the Salvatore."

"Elena!" Isobel cried, stepping forward. "You can't! John, stop her—"

"Do you believe me?" Elena asked, staring at her mother, her features so similar to hers.

"That Liam hit you?" John clarified.

"Yes. For two years. Hit, pushed, shoved, bruised, insulted, belittled, isolated, and manipulated. Take your pick."

Isobel inhaled sharply. John stepped to her side and curled an arm around her waist. Elena had seen this so many times before. It was the thing they used to do when they were telling her what was best for her. Like going on a date with Liam. Becoming exclusive with Liam. Accepting Liam's proposal—which she knew about before he asked, because he asked her father's permission, and her father wanted to ensure she would accept.

Basically, it was the thing they did when they were telling her what they believed was best for her, but it was actually the worst.

So, Elena knew exactly what her father was going to say before he said it.

"I believe Damon Salvatore has brainwashed you, Elena."

Elena breathed in slowly and closed her eyes. She would not lose her temper. She would not give Liam the satisfaction of finding out over dinner tonight that she flipped. She would not give her parents what they would see as confirmation of their beliefs.

She would take her purse from the coffee table, put it over her shoulder, and leave quietly.

"Now let's sit down and discuss this like adults."

Elena shook her head.

"Elena, if you leave now and pursue this," John warned, "you are on your own."

Elena met his eyes. "Kindly inform Liam he will likely be questioned by the NYPD in the next forty-eight hours."

 _Or I will throw that parting shot and disappear,_ she thought. _That's good, too._

Alone in her hotel room, Elena poured some more wine into her glass and stared at the TV. At least she was watching Friends and not some mind-numbing reality crap. But she was lonely.

Really, really lonely.

Elena wished more than anything that someone was sitting next to me. That that someone was Caroline. That they were laughing at Joey, drinking wine, eating nachos.

Instead she was doing all these things. But she was alone.

And it sucked. Big time.

She was in a hotel in the middle of the city she called home for so long, and she had no one here. By now, it would be common knowledge within her parents' circle that she was fighting Liam on this abuse thing. That she was going against him.

Yet her so-called friends hadn't once tried to contact her.

Elena changed her number, sure, but her Facebook didn't change, neither did her Twitter, and neither did her email. She hadn't had a single message, which further proved to her that the people she had spent the last few years with were 100 percent superficial.

She put a chili-and-guacamole-loaded nacho into her mouth and grabbed her phone from the nightstand.

 _Where are you?_ She texted Caroline.

 _On the road to Philadelphia. How are you?_

 _Desperate to know when you will get there so I can get on a plane as soon as I have spoken to the police._

 _Crap. Went that well, huh?_

 _Like a bull in a china shop._

 _Damn. You talked to Damon today?_

 _No._ Elena poured another glass of wine. She didn't want to. Shee missd him enough without talking to him.

 _According to Enzo and Alaric he is like a flea on caffeine. And a teenage girl with PMS. Basically a living nightmare._

Elena chewed the inside of her cheek. _Should I call him?_

 _Um, yes._

Elena stared at Caroline's reply and shoved a nacho in her mouth. She thought she had put on, like, five pounds in the last few weeks from her addiction to these things, despite her running, and she didn't even care. But eating nachos made her think about Damon.

Hell, she even wanted him to be here, stealing her chips. She wanted him to eat so many that she had to order a second plate because there wasn't enough left. She wanted him to eat all the guacamole so she was mad and had to ask for an extra portion when she called room service and asked for the second plate. Shee wadnt him to scoop up all the sour cream and put it on "her" side of the plate then force-fed her the sour cream–covered chip.

She wanted him.

Just him.

Just Damon.

Elena never knew what it was to miss someone until this second. She never had any idea what it was like to feel like a part of her was missing, lost in the abyss of reality. She never knew what it was to wish she was anywhere other than the place she was right this second.

Sure. Every time Liam hit her, she wished she was elsewhere, but it was always a random thought. She could have wished for London, Sydney, Tokyo, and none of them would have been half as strong as the way she felt right now, for a specific place, for a specific person.

For the tour bus. For Damon.

For her guys. For her guy.

Her thumb hovered over his number for a second before it dropped to the screen and pressed the green call button. She lifted the phone to her ear, and she held her breath for every ring.

"Elena," Damon answered. "Darling."

"Hey," She breathed in reply. "How you doing, Mr Salvatore?"

"Holy hell," he responded, laughing. "How are you doing?"

"Ten times better than I was five seconds ago."

"Elena, I miss you so much."

"I miss you too," Elena replied softly. "How long until you are in Philly?"

"A day, maybe. I don't know, darling. Wish I did." Damon sighed through the phone. "How did it go with your parents?"

Elena told him everything, from her conversation with Pete to her arriving in the hotel room yesterday. She kept most of the feelings inside, though, because that was what she was used to, but she told Damon everything but that. He was happy with it, but she was not.

She was aching. Bleeding, almost. Bleeding with want and desire and desperation.

Damon, Enzo, Alaric, Stefan, Caroline, Trevor…that's where her home was. Right now, she was a million miles away. She might as well be on some faraway star in the galaxy, thousands of light years away.

"Damn, I miss all of you," Elena said sadly. "I'm not joking. As soon as you get to Philly, you tell me, okay?"

"Okay, baby, I got it. I promise." His voice was rough into the phone. "What are you doing? You got a lawyer?"

"No. Not yet. I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to get one either."

"Don't worry, okay?" Damon rasped. "I will fix it."

"Okay." She frowned.

"I got to go, darling. My service isn't great. I will text you, all right?"

"All right." Elena stared at the TV blankly. "You better."

"Promise," he replied quietly. "What hotel are you in?"

She told him the name.

"It is on my card as of five minutes in the future."

"No!"

"Yes!" he growled, but he was laughing. "Get Moscato and nachos and think of me, Elena."

Elena looked at the plate on her lap and the bottle on the nightstand. "Already way ahead of you, Damon."

"Good. Sleep tight, darling. Tomorrow, all right?"

"Tomorrow," she whispered. "Damon…"

Silence lingered as she trailed off. Not on the phone. Elena couldn't say it now.

"I know, darling. I know. You, too. Night."


	18. Chapter 18

Hearing her voice was like a big-ass kick to the gut.

Hearing her broken, hurting voice was a big-ass kick to the balls and the gut.

Damon wished Elena wasn't hurting. He wished he wasn't so damn far from her. He wished it wasn't several hours on a bus then a plane ride until he could be beside her. He wished he wasn't so damn willing to give up the show in Philadelphia to get her. To feel her. To touch her.

Truth was, he would give anything for her.

Damon berated Stefan so much for how he treated Caroline when she decided to become his girlfriend. He laughed at his little brother and he abused him, but it was easy because he didn't get it. He wouldn't pretend he loved Elena the way Stefan loved Caroline, because they had different stories, but that didn't mean Damon didn't regret how he acted.

Right now, if he had to, he would give up everything for her. The lights, the charts, the fame…Every single second would become irrelevant if that was what she needed. _Because sometimes you meet the dream you never even dreamed of, and it is more important than the one you have wished for._

Elena Gilbert came at him with the force of a tsunami. She didn't ease up for a second. She battered him, hour after hour. Elena Gilbert barrelled into him.

Elena Gilbert smacked into him and contorted and twisted and morphed his perception of life in the most petrifying way.

Elena Gilbert slipped her way into his world and slowly became the thing he didn't know he needed.

And now…

Now Damon sat on a tour bus, a bottle of Budweiser clasped in his hand, missing her. Regretting that she went alone. Hating that she was dealing with her family alone.

He sat on a tour bus, ignoring his brother and friends and stared at the window.

He sat on a tour bus, feeling lonelier than he ever thought possible.

He sat on a tour bus, beer in hand, eyes on window, missing his girl like he had missed the other half of his soul.

"Hell!" Caroline yelled, slamming her hands on the edge of the stage. "That's it! Get the hell out of here!" she shouted, pointing at Damon. "You. Now. Richmond. Get the hell away from me before I put you on a goddamn plane myself."

"We have a concert," Damon replied, staring into her green eyes.

"Kiss my ass!" she shrieked. "Get a cold, Damon. Get a sickness bug. Get a goddamn virus that stops you from performing, but get your ass on a plane and to her hotel before I kill you with my plastic spoon."

She waved the bright white spoon in the air in front of her, and Damon sighed.

The sigh was like a gateway for his brother and friends.

One by one, they turned on him. No. They turned on him all at the same time. Their words mingled together. Their orders meshed. Their concerns melded. And Damon nodded. Hopelessly, he nodded.

"All right." Caroline stood and pulled her phone from her pocket. She stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind her, and Damon sighed.

"Oh crap," Enzo said. "You on your period, Damon? You are like a female with your bitchy ass mood swings."

Stefan rubbed his face. "Lay off him, man."

Damon looked at Stefan, his youngest brother, and the second his eyes met his, Damon knew he felt him. "What do I do?" he whispered.

"Bro," Stefan replied just as quietly. "You miss her, you follow her. You love her, you go the hell after her no matter what it takes. You love her, man, you follow her until your feet burn against the ground, because that is love. I would follow Caroline to the centre of the Earth if I had to. You love Elena, I see it, and you got to do whatever the hell it takes to get her back in your arms."

Damon's nostrils flared, and his eyes sting, because, he did. He did, and he would follow Elena until the soles of his feet were bleeding, until he had worn down all his skin and broken through his veins and all he had left was his bones.

"There is a car outside." Caroline walked back in, tucking her phone into her pocket. She met his eyes. "If you have got half a brain inside that purdy head of yours, you will get your ass into it in five minutes."

"Caroline…"

She shoved a sheet of paper in his face. "Your boarding pass from Philly to Richmond. If you don't want to miss it, you will get out of here now."

"She told me not to leave a concert."

Caroline grabbed his chin. "You leave now, you will be back in time for it."

Damon stared at the boarding pass. One hour and fifteen minutes and he could be in Richmond. Thirty minutes later he could be in a car ready to see his girl. An hour after that, he could be on a plane, bringing her back.

Caroline stared at Caroline. Stepped forward. Snatched the pass. And turned for the door.

 _Lawyers, man. Who needs them?_ Damon thought.

 _Oh yeah—me and Elena._

Apparently his time line was ambitious, because Wes had him in a lawyer's office within seconds of leaving the airport.

"So, Damon," Mr. Lee said. "You want me to represent your girlfriend."

"Mr. Lee," Damon said, leaning forward. "With all due respect, I do whatever my manager tells me to do to make my life easier, you get me?" He nodded, and Damon continued. "But right now, my girlfriend and I are—scratch that—could be in some serious trouble, and I need the best lawyer money can buy me. Are you it?"

"You bet, son."

"Great." Damon knew Wes wouldn't have sent him to anyone other than the best. He explained to him Elena's past and the incident in New Orleans, how it was in the hands of the NYPD, how she was alone, how his family was all she had got. How Mr Lee could make it better.

Mr Lee listened and he nodded. He talked, and Damon nodded. They shook hands, conversation over, and Damon left his office.

He got in the waiting car with their new lawyer and stared out of the windshield as the driver pulled into the crazy traffic.

Richmond didn't hold the charm that it did the last time Damon was here. There was no excitement or delight. No anticipation. Just determination. Just anger, knowing he was mere miles from Liam Davis.

Somehow, he swallowed the anger, and he made the ride to Elena's hotel calmly. _Well, if you count seeing her again as calm, because I am not. Two days and I'm crazy without her._

Damon rammed his fist against her door two, three, four, five, six times.

There was a light tap at the other side of the door, then a pause, then the lock clicked, and the door opened. "Damon," Elena gasped.

His lips curved to the side, and he met her gaze. Her eyes were wide and shocked, her lips parted, her body entirely frozen. "All right, darling?" Damon asked, leaning against the side of the doorframe. "Miss me?"

Elena covered her mouth with her hands, laughed. "Yeah, yeah."

His chuckle eclipsed hers. "Missed you, too," he laughed, clasping her in his arms.

"Shit!" she whispered, clinging to him. "You are supposed to be in Philly."

"No, Elena." Damon tilted her head back. "I'm supposed to be with my girl. And you are my girl. You are my forever, darling."

Elena pressed her mouth to his firmly, gripping him, tasting him.

"And there is someone here that can prove it," he whispered.

"What?" she asked.

Damon released her and opened her hotel room door. "Elena, meet Mr. Dylan Lee, the lawyer who is going to win your case against that bastard you call an ex."

Elena brought her hand to her mouth again. "Are you for real?" she whispered, gasping, inhaling intensely. "You got me a lawyer?"

"Mr. Lee, why don't you head down to the café and get yourself a coffee? I need a minute with my girlfriend." Damon's suggestion came out as more of an order, but his lawyer nodded and disappeared.

Elena gaped at him and sighed. "Damon, I can't," she argued quietly. "I can't take your lawyer."

"He isn't my lawyer," he corrected her. "He is yours, darling. He is going to fight your case. He thinks Liam should eat shit, and so do I. Baby, he is going to send that bastard down for what he did to you."

Elena gripped his polo shirt. "I can't afford him. My parents…I kind of walked out on them, and they kind of disowned me."

Damon sank his fingers further into her hair. "You aren't paying for him, darling. I am. I will pay until that bastard is on his knees in court begging for your forgiveness."

"Hell." Elena held him tightly. "He won't get it."

"Damn right he won't." He kissed her temple. "So be a good little girl and tell Mr. Lee everything you didn't tell the cops. He has got it all except that." He cupped her face with his hands and took a deep breath. "Can you do that, baby? Can you breathe free for me, darling?"

Elena reached up so her fingers slipped through his, even though she was holding her hands. "Will you be there?"

"You need me to be?"

"No. But I want you to be."

"I will be whatever you want to do, Elena. Now and always."

x x x

Elena was in Philadelphia. With Damon. With The S. With Caroline.

"Enzo?" Elena demanded, banging on his bedroom door. "Aren't you supposed to be in the gym?"

Enzo held his arms up, stumbling out of the room, "You are confused, sugar. I should be in bed."

"Mmm," Elena hummed. "My schedule says different. Your ass, the gym, thirty seconds." She pointed to the elevator.

Enzo shrugged and adjusted his shirt when he walked past her. "Damn, she is slave driver. Who thought to bring her back?"

"All of you!" Elena yelled down the hall.

Damon circled her in his arms. "I like you being back."

"I will kick your ass, Damon Salvatore." Her voice trailed off when he kissed down her neck and pulled her back into their hotel room.

"I have got another workout that will benefit us both," he muttered into her collarbone. "Your pussy, my cock, baby."

"Stop," she breathed. "Don't you know I'm in hiding?"

His phone rang, and he groaned, releasing her. Pulling it from his pocket, Damon saw the lawyer's name on the screen and brought it to his ear. "Damon Salvatore."

"Dylan Lee," he said. "Mr Salvatore, I would like to meet with you in Philadelphia tomorrow. I have received some important information from Mr Davis' lawyer suggesting that his client would like to settle out of court."

Elena nibbled her bottom lip and nodded once.

"We can see you at three p.m.," Damon offered. "Does that work?"

"Yes, sir," he replied and reeled off the Philadelphia address. "See you then."

Damon hung up and look at the girl across the bed from him. "Sounds like a jacked-up plea bargain to me, darling."

"As long as he leaves me and you alone, I don't care," she whispered. "I have got you, okay?"

"Okay? More than okay." He covered her body with his. "Elena…darling…baby…Every part of me you hold in the palm of your hands. Every single bit is yours. Squeeze me and twist me, I'm yours, darling."

The truth of his words flooded through him, and she wrapped her arms around him.

"I know." Elena kissed his jaw. "But…Damon…I want to know I'm yours. All of me. Every bit."

Damon inhaled slowly because he knew what she was asking, but if he couldn't give her that, then he was a pussy. If he couldn't tell her what she wanted to hear and what he knew to be true, then he needed a slap upside the head.

"Allow me to oblige you, darling," he murmured to her jaw.

His lips travelled from her chin to her lips and covered her sweet mouth. Toothpaste and orange juice lingered on her lips, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, accepting his kiss without batting an eyelid. Elena curled herself around him as Damon dropped her onto the bed. Her arms, her legs, they gripped him, circled him, pulled him into her. His cock pushed against her core, too many layers between them, too many shirts and pants. He murmured this against her neck and she laughed, but seconds later, her hands were snaking beneath his shirt and up his stomach.

Elena hummed low, her fingers grasping the hem of his shirt as Damon encouraged her to guide it up and over his head. Easy, slow, breathless, it happened, and she slid her hands up his back. Her fingers ghosted up his spine as if she revelled in the dip of his spine.

Damon breathed in every sweep of her fingers. His dick hardened. Wanting more. Craving more. Desiring more.

Every single bit of him needed Elena Gilbert.

"Damon."

His name was a whisper against his shoulder as he flipped her over to her side and hooked two fingers inside the waistband of her pants. She tilted her hips so he could tug her tiny shorts down, and he clasped the back of her neck as if it would distract her.

The indescribable feeling of her lips, her mouth, her tongue, against him—it was too much. Damon leaned into her, his hand curving over her bare ass, because she was just too beautiful. Elena grasped his hair and pushed herself into him. He grasped her ass, and his fingers sneaked round to tease her pussy. She was wet, and so responsive, and he groaned into a kiss on her neck.

She thrust her hips into him.

Damon rolled Elena onto her back, whispering in her ear. He wanted her. He needed her. He craved her. No words he could ever say out loud could come close to the way he felt for this girl right now.

Nothing could compare to the tightness of her pussy as he eased inside her. Nothing could compare to the irresistible way she hugged him when he buried himself so deep inside her there was nothing but him. Nothing could compare to what Elena Gilbert felt like beneath him and around him.

"Damon," Elena whispered, legs around his waist, arms around his neck, trembling, pulsing, desiring. "Yes."

Damon thrust into her in one last hard thrust and she cried out. She screamed, tilting her head back, gripping him, shaking, clenching. He cupped Elena's ass and brought her pussy tight against his dick so there wasn't an inch of space between them.

Elena sighed. Gasped. Breathed out slowly.

She held on to him, still. To hell the grasp of concerts past. To hell the desperation of weeks past. To hell everything that wasn't Elena Gilbert and her magnetic pull.

To hell everything that wasn't her.

To hell everything that wasn't her belief and her pull and her desire. To hell everything that wasn't always more than forever. To hell everything that could never look beyond the dirtiness of his past. To hell everything that depended on that shit. To hell everything, everything that never saw Elena Gilbert waiting at the other end.

With Damon buried deep inside her, Elena Gilbert consumed him until his last breath. She took every ounce of him, forcing him to hold her, breathe her in.

"Elena," he whispered into her ear, nipping her neck. "Give me you, darling. All of you."

She did.

Elena moaned his name into his mouth and grasped his hair. Her grip on him tightened, and the speed of his thrusts increased. Damon needed to feel her. Her pussy around his cock. Her breath around him. She was Elena Gilbert but she belonged to Damon Salvatore, and she was going to know it.

"Damon," she whispered into his neck.

His arms circled her tightly. So tightly. So. Tightly. "Elena, darling." Her fingertips, her breaths, they were scarily intense. "Elena," he whispered into her ear. "Darling. I love you. So much. So goddamn much."

Elena squeezed him. Tighter than Damon ever thought she could. "I love you, Damon. I love you."


	19. Chapter 19

Two weeks and it was perfect.

Two weeks of secret practices, sneaking around, and tensions running high, but it was perfect.

"Just sit down." Damon laughed, kissing Elena's forehead and pushing her onto a chair.

"But why?"

"Can't you just do it?"

"No!" She pouted. "You all have that look. Like something is going on."

Caroline grinned.

"Caroline! What is going on?"

Caroline giggled and sat next to her. "Just…sit…yeah."

"I don't like this," Elena muttered.

"Give it a minute," Caroline replied. The men had let her in on the secret after she heard them playing it. Or rather she forced her way in to the secret.

"Ready?" Enzo said, sitting at the drums.

"Ready," Alaric nodded.

"Ready," Stefan stated.

"Ready." Damon smirked at Elena. She narrowed her eyes as they hit the first notes of the song.

She stared at Damon. He looked back at her, smiling knowingly.

The lyrics fell from his lips, and his gaze stayed pinned on hers. Her eyes widened and filled, and she lifted her hand to her mouth.

 _You are not broken, baby, you aren't shattered,_

 _Maybe a little cracked, but darling,_

 _I can fix you if you let me._

 _Let me soothe the sting, let me kiss your scars,_

 _Let me wipe your tears and dry your cheeks,_

 _I will hold you tight and love you deep._

 _Damon smiled as he sang, strumming on the guitar._

 _You are not broken, baby, just a little bent,_

 _Come in to me tonight,_

 _Breathe me in, give me you,_

 _Let me soothe the sting, let me kiss your scars,_

 _Darling, let me kiss your scars,_

 _Let me hold you tight and kiss your scars._

 _No matter how dirty your past is, your future is still spotless._

 _That is how we should look at one another._

 _Let me soothe the sting, let me kiss your scars,_

 _Let me wipe your tears and dry your cheeks,_

 _I will hold you tight and love you deep._

 _Let us kiss yesterday goodbye._

Damon strummed the last note and his lips twitched to the side. "What do you think?" he asked Elena. "It is yours."

Her eyes flicked between all four of them, filling with tears. "You wrote me a song?"

"Wrote it, played it, sang it." Damon shrugged a shoulder. "Not bad, right?"

Elena laughed and ran at Damon. He put his guitar to the side and caught her on his lap. She hugged him tightly, her face pressed into his neck. Her lips brushed where his pulse was throbbing, and Damon smiled, breathing in deeply.

"I love it," Elena whispered with a sniff. "I love you."

"I love you, too, darling." Damon kissed her temple.

She laughed and sat up, wiping at her eyes. "Thank you."

"I would say 'anytime,' but it is a lot of effort. Especially when you got to keep it secret from your assistant." Damon grinned.

"You did a great job." She giggled. "I had no idea."

"I know."

"What is the name of this song?"

"Kiss yesterday goodbye."

Elena looked at Damon and smiled. "I love it so much, thank you."

"Hey, Stefan, why don't you write me songs anymore?" Caroline demanded.

"Give me a pen, princess, and I will get right to it," he answered immediately. "Anyone got any paper? I'm losing my best-boyfriend title to my brother."

Alaric snorted. "You all can keep it. I am not writing songs for a girl."

Elena smiled widely, and pulled her eyes from Damon to him. "You say that now, Alaric."

"I'm saying it for a long damn time," he argued.

"Yeah, you never know," Caroline agreed. "This love thing is kind of crazy."

"Isn't happening," Alaric protested. "I rather write a song about friends and family."

Elena's smile just widened, and she tilted her head to one side. "Who knows? You may be next, Alaric.

Alaric stared at her stonily. "Shut up."

A smirk tugged at Damon's lips. "Alaric, it happened to me." He caught Elena's eye, and she smiled softly, the smile he loved that lit up her eyes. "It is going to happen to you, and Alaric? When it happens, man, it happens."

Alaric looked at Elena. "What did you do with my buddy?"

She laughed and threaded her fingers through Damon's hair. "I didn't do a thing. He grew from a silly little boy"—Damon tickled her side—"into a man." She kissed his cheek. "My man."


	20. Epilogue

_TWO MONTHS LATER_

Damon signed the paper with a flourish and handed it, with the pen, to the Realtor. Called him crazy, but that signature just sealed the deal on a purchase of a three-bedroom house just minutes away from his parents' place.

The place needed some updating, although it was beautiful. The large bay window in the living room faced the beach, and so did the one in the master bedroom upstairs. The back faced the very same forest Caroline and Stefan once snuck out to, the same one Damon took Elena out for their first date.

Elena was finally happy after Liam had decided to settle the abuse case out of court. His lawyer had offered a good amount of money as compensation but Damon had filed for an injunction that Liam would never come close to Elena within ten feet if Liam had wanted to settle the case out of court. If Liam failed to comply with the injunction, he would face penalties, including possible monetary sanctions and even imprisonment. He would also be charged with contempt of court. Liam had disagreed initially but his lawyer had contacted them again a few days later stating that Liam would be happy with the settlement.

Finally, it was over.

No more fear for Elena.

But Damon knew he had to do something for her.

Elena had a point when she reminded him that he was still living at home despite being the highest-grossing boy band in the country last year. It was insane, but Damon guessed they all needed home. Still—the bigger they got, the more control they had over their downtime, and he sure as hell didn't want to be shuttling between hotels and his parents' house whenever like they had been.

Damon wanted to have a place where he and Elena could hang out then go to bed and explore each other until the tiny hours of the morning. He wanted a place where they could wake up hours later and he could come downstairs and find Elena dancing in the kitchen wearing nothing but one of his tour T-shirts. He wanted somewhere he could lift her onto the edge of the counter and make love to her, still in the T-shirt, without worrying if someone would walk in on them.

He wanted somewhere that Elena would eventually want to call home, too. And this just might be it.

Three knocks echoed at the front door, and he walked through the airy, open-plan living area to answer it.

"Who was that?" Elena cocked her thumb over her shoulder. "And what is this?"

"Come in." Damon laughed, holding the door wide open.

"What?"

"That was the Realtor." He held up the keys. "And this is home."

"What?" she gasped.

"I'm moving out," he murmured, closing the door and pulling her close. "Want somewhere I can love you properly."

"Oh, my God!" she breathed. "This place is yours?"

"Yes, darling. I bought it for us."

"Holy shit!" Elena broke away from him, leaving her purse on the island in the middle of the kitchen. She looked around, from the white kitchen cupboards to the open fireplace in the main room. Damon laughed as she darted past him and up the stairs, stomping as she ran up to explore the three big bedrooms and two bathrooms.

He waited at the bottom of the stairs, smirking as she powered around upstairs.

"Holy shit!" she repeated, stopping at the top of the stairs. "This place is amazing!"

"Sure is."

Elena ran down and back into the middle of the living area. "That view is amazing. And the deck! And the yard out the back! Well played, Mr Salvatore," she acknowledged. "Just need some furniture."

"Want to help me? I have…nothing."

She grinned. "Sure. But the first thing you are buying is a king-sized bed I have always dreamt having. And that you can sleep in, too, I guess."

"You dream about having a king-sized bed." Damon swept her close to him and smiled against her mouth.

She threw her head back and laughed. "Yes, I do!"

"Do you really need a king-sized bed?" He brushed his lips across hers, spin her, and walked her backward. "I thought beds aren't necessary." He perched her on the edge of the marble-topped island. "And that this house needs christening, and that should happen immediately."

Elena wrapped her her arms around his neck, her hair tickling his face, and moved in to kiss him.

As his fingers dived into her hair and they gradually removed each other's clothing and he slid into her, Damon knew he couldn't love this girl any harder than he already did.

She was his girl.

And he was her man.

 _THE END_


End file.
